Rehabilitation
by Sugarpony
Summary: After a horrible accident, Edward in injured and has fallen into a deep depression. He is sent to Hogwarts for protection, but does he have the will to survive? Harry Potter Crossover
1. The Scream

AN: Hmmm... I really do seem to be getting in over my head with all these stories. This is number six, me thinketh. Ah, well. I just think too much for my own good. I know some of you are going to kill me after this first chapter, so I'm going to make my plea for reviews now instead after. Read and review, every one! No new chapter until I get five reviews!

Key:

"Speech"

_Thoughts_

-_Flashback_-

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

Rehabilitation

Chapter One

The Scream

* * *

Edward Elric sat in silence. He was, once again, without an arm and leg. A blanket was wrapped around him as he numbly stared at the broken pieces of metal in his left hand while military personnel ran around like headless chickens. Silently, Colonel Mustang approached him. Edward heard him say something about leaving for the hospital, but he didn't care. All he could think about was the metal in his hand and how this all had happened.

-_Edward and Alphonse walked down the streets of the Eastern city, heading towards Headquarters. The two brothers had only recently returned from a mission, and Ed needed to give his report to Mustang. Al was teasing his older brother about something Winry had said when they were children as they turned down an alley when, all of a sudden, the street erupted from beneath their feet._

_"What the hell!" Edward, obviously, had no idea what was going on. "The hell was that!"_

_Alphonse helped him to his feet as the answer to Ed's question came walking out of the darkness._

_"Fullmetal Alchemist, today is the day that you shall pay for your sins." A tanned man with a white, X-shaped scar and eyes the color of blood-red wine raised his right arm, reaching for Edward's head._

_"Scar!" Al jumped in front of his brother, shielding him from the genocidal Ishbalan. "Don't you hurt my brother!"_

_Scar stood his ground. "You are not the one I am after, Alphonse Elric. I promised your brother I would not harm you, but he must pay for his sins."_

_He quickly moved behind the suit of armor, reaching for Edward's head once more. The blond moved quickly, however, and instead of hitting his intended target, Scar only destroyed the automail arm and port. Ed's now bare shoulder began to bleed._

_"You may have evaded my attack, Edward Elric, but now you cannot use your alchemy. You shall pay for your sins this day."_

_He chased the boy into the alley and trapped him at a dead end. By this time, a crowd had gathered and was preventing Alphonse from assisting his brother._

_Edward nimbly dodged the Ishvalan's attacks, but he faltered and tripped. He crawled away as quickly as possible as Scar grabbed his left leg, once again destroying both the automail and the port._

_Now cornered, two limbs bleeding freely, the alchemist cowered in fear, awaiting his fate. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the attack that was sure to follow._

_All that came, however, was a scream._

_"No! I won't let you hurt my brother!"_

_Ed opened his eyes to the sight of his younger brother in front of him, taking the brunt of Scar's attack. His eyes widened in horror as the blood seal cracked and then shattered, destroying Alphonse's only link to this world. His mind registered a terrible scream, his brother's soul being ripped away into the Gate._

_"No... Alphonse... Alphonse!... ALPHONSE!!!!"_

_His neither heard nor saw the snap and flame produced by Colonel Mustang. He did not feel the arms wrapping around him, dragging his body that was clawing to grab the pieces of his brother's broken seal. He did not feel a heavy blanket being wrapped around him, nor did he hear the frantic orders given by Mustang and his subordinates._

_He only saw the armor he loved being shattered._

_He only heard that terrible, bone-chilling scream playing in his mind over and over again._-

Now, he was sitting in the middle of the street, the blanket resting over his shoulders. He stared resignedly at the pieces of metal in his hand.

Even as he was lifted by Major Armstrong, even as the worried voice of Lieutenant Hawkeye sounded, the world around him was only a blurry, muted dream.

All he could see was the shattering seal.

All he could hear was that one long, horrible scream.

* * *

AN: Hmmm... That was very short. I hate it when I can't get out at least 1,000 words in one chapter. This just seemed like such a good place to stop.

-Dodges various weapons thrown by Alphonse-lovers and Cliffy-haters-

Please review! I won't update until you do!

-Sugarpony

* * *

Edited: 6/21/07 


	2. Be Our Guests

AN: I'm feeling guilty about last chapter, so I'm starting this right away. That combined with the fact that I received a death threat to post the next chapter gets you a quick update. Yay you. Happy Hanaramakwanzmas, everybody!

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.

* * *

Rehabilitation

Chapter Two

* * *

Eastern Headquarters' Military Hospital was in a tizzy. About an hour ago, Edward Elric had been brought in by Colonel Mustang and Major Armstrong. Nurse Baker sighed as she stared at his charts. The poor boy was in a terrible shape. Both the stump of his right arm and the stump of his left leg were bleeding profusely, and the boy himself had not uttered a word since his arrival.

The next moment, Colonel Mustang entered the room, followed by Armstrong, Hughes, Hawkeye, and Havoc. The senior officer faced her and said, "Excuse me, Miss, but I need you to leave the room. Official military business. Oh, yes, and Major Elric will be relocated by the end of the day for issues regarding his safety."

"But Colonel Mustang, Sir--"

"He needs to be somewhere away from Scar. While he's still in the city, he's at risk of being attacked again and possibly murdered."

Nurse Baker bit her lip and slowly nodded. She understood the need, but really, Major Elric was just a boy, and he was extremely injured! She was still shaking her head in disapproval as she walked out the door, closing it behind her.

Once her footsteps faded, Mustang locked the door and then approached Ed.

"Edward," he said.

Ed merely turned his head away.

"Major Elric," Mustang said, this time more forcefully. Once Ed was looking at him, he continued. "Edward, we're leaving now. We need to get you away before Scar comes back. You're obviously in no condition to go anywhere by yourself, so we all will escort you and become your personal squad of body guards until you're well enough to go back to your job. We'll be leaving from this room in five minutes, so grab anything that you need now."

Edward absorbed all of this without a single word. After, he grabbed the crutch which was standing next to the bed, stood, and wandered around the room, grabbing his clothes, boots, and suitcase, all of which had been brought to him ten minutes prior by Mrs. Hughes. Soon, he was standing in front of the colonel, leaning on his crutch, waiting for his next instructions.

After four minutes had elapsed, Mustang once again approached him. He took an old handkerchief out of his breast pocket and held it out to him. "Grab on to this. It will take us to where we need to go. Give your things to Major Armstrong. More will be explained once we arrive."

By this time, the others in the room had already grabbed a small piece of the cloth. Raising a skeptic eyebrow but not questioning the orders, Edward sat down, gave his belongings to the muscled man, and took hold of the handkerchief just as the five minutes were up.

And then, everything started spinning.

* * *

Professor Albus Dumbledore stood at the head of the Great Hall, giving another one of his infamous pre-dinner speeches. He smiled at all of his students, who were whispering to one another and complaining of hunger.

"Once again, I will remind all students, new and old, that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden, and that the list of banned items has now been extended to include all Weasley's Wizardly Wheezes products and is at a new record of seven hundred and fifty-three items.

"Also, for a yet undecided amount of time this year, Hogwarts will be hosting several guests from the country of Amestris, who should be arriving shortly."

At that precise moment six people appeared at the opposite end of the room, clutching a worn-out handkerchief.

The students of Hogwarts immediately turned to inspect the new arrivals. Five of them were wearing the same blue military uniform, three of which caught the eyes of the curious onlookers above the others.

The first was a man about six feet four inches in height who had bulging muscles that could give even Hagrid a run for his money.

The second was a normal sized man with straw colored hair. He looked relatively normal compared to the others, but he was lazily holding a smoking cigarette between his lips.

The next was a woman with her long blond hair tied up sternly. She was fairly attractive, but she held an air that reminded the students of Professor McGonagall-- and it didn't make the Muggleborns feel any better to see that she had pulled out a revolver and was now resting her finger on the trigger.

Stranger number four had all of the females swooning. He had silky black hair, handsome onyx eyes, and a confident smile that made even the Slytherin girls want to scream in delight.

The fifth person was a man a bit shorter than the last. He had glasses and spiky black hair, and he was helping the last person up off of the floor.

This final one was the most intriguing, and he had almost the entire Hall staring at him. He was a short boy-- he couldn't possibly have been any older than twelve-- with long, blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He was only wearing a pair of white shorts which showed off a stump of a left leg wrapped in bandages and no right arm, only a shoulder, also wrapped in bandages. He had stunning golden eyes which were revealed beneath his long bangs as he looked up, glancing around the Hall and then at the handsome black-haired, charcoal-eyed man.

The muscled man gathered a few things which were scattered about the floor while the man with glasses steadied the young boy, who was now standing, and handed him a crutch. The small party slowly processed to the top of the Hall until they were standing in front of Dumbledore himself.

"It's good to see you again, Sir," the handsome man said to the headmaster. "Thank you very much for your hospitality." He gave a curt salute and bowed, showing his respect for the old man.

"Now, now, Roy, we are colleagues." Dumbledore smiled and raised the younger man from his bow. "You do not need to show me such respect, and I am glad that I may help you."

Dumbledore then turned, once again, to the students. "May I introduce Colonel Roy Mustang (the black-eyed man saluted), Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, (the man with glasses saluted), First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye (the woman sharply saluted, her gun at her side), Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc (the blond man gave a lazy salute), Major Alex Louis Armstrong, (the muscled man saluted as pink sparkles suddenly appeared around him), and Major Edward Elric?"

The blond-haired boy neither saluted nor glanced up from the floor, which, for some reason, he was studying intently.

Dumbledore was not deterred by Elric's behavior, for he simply continued with his speech. "They are all part of the military in their homeland, and Majors Armstrong and Elric, as well as Colonel Mustang, are State Alchemists, alchemists who work for the government and military.

"I will not tell you any lies regarding their presence. At this time, their is an alchemist killer  
on the loose in their county. This criminal has repeatedly tried to murder Major Elric, and the last attempt ended in not only his injuries but also the death of his younger brother. Because the country is so unsafe, Edward and his guard will be residing here with us until he has fully recovered.

"These people are completely competent in their jobs. They have full reign of the castle. At least two of them will remain with Edward at all times, while the others will be patrolling the halls. They will not harm anyone unless they present an immediate threat, but please be aware that they are trained to kill." Dumbledore scanned the room with a grave look before resuming.

"Now, I do believe that we are all more than ready to feast, so tuck in!"

Once the headmaster's speech was finished, each of the "guests" took a seat behind the head table. The students all dug into their food right away, but many curious ones of all houses kept glancing at the head table, hoping to figure out more about their strange guests. All too soon, however, the feast was over, and the students left to head up to the dormitories for the night.

* * *

Edward Elric did not eat at the feast, nor did he sleep once he was shown his bedroom. Havoc and Hawkeye were both standing outside his door, keeping watch, while Edward lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, hot tears in his eyes.

_Alphonse_, he thought, _I'm so sorry. It was all my fault._

He turned on his side, closed his eyes, and attempted to sleep.

But all he saw was the shattering seal.

He did not sleep that night.

* * *

AN: Well, that's the end of chapter two! I hope you all enjoyed this little Christmas present! So now Harry Potter is in the mix. And you reviewers have no reason to hurt me, because I didn't leave it on a cliffhanger this time! So next time, we'll get to the misadventures of Roy's crew in a magical building. I know I can't wait!

Sugarpony

* * *

Edited: 6/22/07 


	3. Castles Can Be Fun!

AN: O.o Wow. This is my shortest story, but it is obviously the most popular. If you like my style, why don't you check out some of my other stories?

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this out; I started it about two weeks ago, but I haven't written a single thing since I updated Alternative. The break seemed to do me good, though-- except for the first few paragraphs, I wrote the entire chapter in one sitting.

I had my voice recital Sunday, and all went well. I'm (finally) getting a handle on my AP US work, so hopefully that will give me more time to work on my stories.

Root for the Steelers in Super Bowl XL on Sunday!

I would like to give a huge thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers!

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter. So sorry to disappoint you.

* * *

Rehabilitation

Chapter Three

Castles Can Be Fun!

* * *

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc sighed.

_Why,_ he thought, _of all people, did I have to get stuck with him?_

He took a long drag from his cigarette as Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes ranted on and on about his "perfect little girl" beside him.

"But really, why did I have to get called on this mission? I mean, Ed's a great kid and everything, but my poor little Elysia has to be going crazy missing her daddy by now! She's only four, after all!"

Havoc sighed and took another drag from his cigarette. "Why can't you go bother someone else with this?" he asked.

Hughes shot him a glare. "Because Armstrong went to get Winry, Roy and Ed are with Hawkeye, and I don't want to get shot to death, that's why."

The students in the corridors coughed harshly as the lower officer, unable to find a suitable comeback, puffed away on his cancer stick.

Both members of the military, however, stopped as they felt the floor beneath them moving.

They looked below them first and then, upon seeing only a marble staircase, looked around them. It took another few moments for their minds to comprehend the fact that the staircase was floating in midair towards the lower opposite side of the great room.

"_Aaaaaaah_!!!!!!"

Havoc and Hughes grabbed onto one another, each of them dropping his cigarette and photograph  
respectively. As soon as the stairs were once again stationary, however, they broke apart, a furious blush on each of their faces.

Once the two were able to look one another in the face again, Hughes made an observation. "This definitely isn't where we're supposed to be."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Havoc's comment was met with an icy glare. "So what do you suggest we do about it-- take the stairs again?"

The blond turned green at this suggestion; even if he had agreed to it, though, it would be impossible to do-- the staircase had already moved again, and the pair was stranded.

"I didn't think so."

"Well, what do _you_ think we should do?"

The lieutenant colonel, used to having to dig for information, smirked and named the most natural course of action.

"Why, we find out where we are, of course."

Havoc gulped. _Sometimes,_ he thought, _Hughes scares me even more than Hawkeye..._

* * *

Winry Rockbell was not at all happy when Major Alex Louis Armstrong knocked on her door.

Quite frankly, the man bugged her. He even scared her a little bit. But what made her really mad was the fact that Ed and Al weren't with him.

And we all know what happens when Winry gets really mad.

-_CLANG_!!!!!!!-

Major Alex Louis Armstrong became suddenly familiar with Winry's faithful wrench Wrenchy.

He also learned how to speak very, _very_ quickly.

Of course, the news he brought only made Winry even more angry.

"HOW COULD THAT IDIOT BREAK MY AUTOMAIL AGAIN! THAT JERK! I BET HE WAS IN A FIGHT AGAIN! WASN'T HE? _WASN'T HE_!"

Major Armstrong did his very best to calm the frightening girl who was currently shaking him.

After a very long and scary experience, Winry was calm enough to grab her toolkit and-- still not quite coherent, obviously, because she questioned nothing-- took hold of a smelly old shoe.

Look out, Hogwarts.

Winry Rockbell is on her way.

* * *

In a long, dark, deserted hallway, a low grumbling can be heard. It grows louder and louder, and it seems to be coming closer and closer! And then-- then--

"I'm starved! Can't we at least try to find the kitchen?"

And then, a loud, whiny voice is heard as a pathetic Havoc walks slowly down the hall, clutching his stomach.

"No way. Not when I'm so close to finding out what this place is!"

Hughes charged past his companion and ducked through another doorway. In the past two hours-- Had they really been lost that long?-- they had only visited five different rooms. In each one, Hughes had found several things worth checking out, the simplest of which consisted of a trap door to nowhere, a talking painting of a short knight riding a fat grey pony, a ghost that wouldn't stop crying, and a strange mirror.

"What the hell are you talking about? All we've found so far is a bunch of weird junk and a ghost!"

"Exactly!"

Havoc shook his head at the man's strange reasoning and sighed mournfully, his stomach giving another loud growl.

_We're never gonna get out of here.  
_  
He sighed again, wishing desperately that he hadn't used his last cigarette before they had gotten  
hopelessly lost.

* * *

Roy Mustang positively growled, glaring at anyone who was either brave enough or stupid enough to risk a glance at him. He was resisting the urge to snap and torch the whole place only because he was sitting near Hawkeye, who was polishing her gun in plain sight. Havoc was supposed to have met with him over an hour ago to switch shifts with the gun-crazed woman, but he had never shown up.

The next time Mustang saw Havoc, the blond would be a dead man walking.

To take his mind off of his anger and frustration, Mustang looked down at the person sitting next to him.

He, Edward, and Hawkeye had all come to the Great Hall to eat dinner with the school, but the young boy had yet to take a single bite. Hawkeye had piled some food onto Edward's plate in the hopes that he would eat, but Roy didn't think that Ed had even noticed. The short alchemist had not eaten anything since the attack, which had happened three days ago.

The staff and students alike had grown accustomed to the presence of the strange military, but every so often, a curious person-- whether it be a student or teacher-- would look up at the head table and stare at them until he was caught and then look properly abashed as he quickly began to eat again.

The Elric boy received most of these stares. He was an enigma to all of those around him; why did he never speak? Why did he never eat? Why was his protection so important?

If only they knew.

Edward had not spoken since he was forcefully dragged away from the scene of the accident. He spent most of his time either locked in his room or hobbling aimlessly around the castle to the best of his abilities, lost in his own mind.

But that night, the order of things changed. The doors to the Great Hall suddenly banged open, and a large iron wrench flew straight through the room and smacked Edward in the the forehead, knocking his head back.

The next thing anyone heard or saw was a blond girl wearing blue carpenter jeans, a black tube top, and a red bandanna shouting like one of Mrs. Weasley's howlers.

"EDWARD ELRIC, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY PRECIOUS AUTOMAIL!"

* * *

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc collapsed onto the ground. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes still ran around him like he had drank ten large mugs of espresso.

"Isn't anybody gonna get us outta here!"

* * *

AN: Well, that's it for chapter three. I hope everybody liked it. I'm sorry it's so short; I don't  
know why, but I can't seem to write long chapters for my FMA stories.

Now you've read, so please review!

-Sugarpony

* * *

Edited: 6/22/07 


	4. Life Is Not Fair

AN: -Le Gasp!- She lives! I know, I know, it's been _months_ since I've updated anything, but I've been really busy! The good news is that the school year's over on Tuesday, so I now have three months to dedicate to all of my faithful readers!

It has come to my attention that I have not yet given a time line for this story. -smacks herself- I'm so sorry! It happens right after episode 24 of Fullmetal Alchemist and during year 6 of Harry Potter. That means spoilers for Half-Blood Prince, y'all!

Now, to answer some questions.

**Why was Winry in her work outfit?** Well, she didn't exactly know that she was going somewhere, did she?

**Why did Winry not suspect anything about the portkey?** If you will reread the last chapter, you will find that Winry was very angry. And not quite coherent. She was in a blind rage at the moment, so she didn't really realize that it was a smelly old shoe that she was grabbing. She just wanted to hit Edo with Wrenchy.

**Where are Havoc and Hughes?** I'm not ruining this one. You'll see...

**Will this be an Ed/Winry romance?** I'm sorry, but no. I may be a girl, but I hate mushy romance. And trust me, you do NOT want me to even _try_ writing something romantic-- it'll turn out to be crap.

Warning: Angst.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.

* * *

Rehabilitation

Chapter Four

Life's Not Fair

* * *

The Great Hall was, for one of the first times in Hogwarts history (one Hermione Granger could attest to that), perfectly silent. Even the owls sitting in the rafters were mystified by the entrance of the strange girl. Several of the students stared at Major Elric, who had not bothered to move his head since it had been thrown back by a wrench. Then, the silence was broken by the girl's footsteps pounding to the head table. 

"WELL!" she screamed, leaning over the high table to speak to the boy face to face. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY AUTOMAIL THIS TIME!" Her voice began to shake. "You were fighting again, weren't you? Weren't you!" A slow -drip- -drip- filled the quiet of the hall. "Why is it that you and Alphonse are always doing something dangerous?" Those close enough could see tears running down the girl's face. "I hate you, Edward Elric!"

With that, she stormed down the long hall, coming to a rest at the doors. "Well?" she asked, very quietly this time. "Aren't you even going to say something? _Any_thing?"

The lack of response spoke volumes.

She slowly began to walk out the doors, and then, a very small, hesitant voice was heard.

"I'm sorry."

Not a single sole dared to even breath loudly. The voice was a trembling tenor, and it had originated from none other than Edward Elric. His head was now bowed, and there was a distant, forlorn look in his golden eyes. He nervously swallowed a lump in his throat and licked his dry lips before speaking again.

"You're right, Winry," he said. "You always have been. I am the biggest idiot in the world. I'm stubborn, overconfident, and I have a short temper. I-" He paused before continuing again, his voice a little stronger. "I never think, I just rush into everything. And, if Hell really exists, I deserve the worst it has to offer." He slowly stood, a bit wobbly on his single crutch, picked the wrench up off of the floor, and walked to Winry, the girl at the door.

Every person in the room was silent, waiting for him to say something more. The boy had not uttered a single word during his stay, and now that he was finally speaking, everyone was curious about what he had to say.

He finally reached Winry, and he handed her the wrench, leaning against the wall for support, before heading out the door. Winry spoke before he could fully leave, however.

"Ed," she began, quietly and fearfully, "what are you talking about? You're scaring me, Ed."

The Fullmetal stopped. He did not turn around; he did not seem to even have heard the question but for the fact that he had paused in the doorway. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm a horrible person, Winry," he whispered, voice shaking, fiercely clutching his crutch. "I killed him."

* * *

Edward stumbled into the Entrance Hall, not really paying attention to his surroundings. He didn't hear Winry's confused cries. Nor did he hear the sound of cursing and footsteps as Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye followed him. He merely wandered through a random door to his right, drowning in his thoughts. 

It had been haunting him ever since it had happened. He wanted so much to be able to just let it go and blame the entire thing on Scar, but he knew that would never be. His conscience would not let him rest peacefully. It was no one's fault but his own.

Everything that had happened was his fault. It was _his_ idea to study alchemy and try to bring their mother back to life. It was _his_ idea to become a state alchemist. It was not his idea to look for the Philosopher's Stone, true, but Alphonse would not have pursued it if he hadn't agreed. These are the things which led to his death.

Scar only wanted to kill state alchemists. He had given Edward the chance to save himself, but the boy had not used it wisely.

Damn it, he had promised to never harm his brother!

But he had allowed Alphonse to be put in danger. He knew the risks, yet he ignored them. He was too focused on his goal; he didn't focus enough on the journey.

He had always worried about losing his brother. Every time it rained, he was put at risk. The blood seal could get scratched or washed away so easily. With more time, it would have faded away on its own. But his need to have his brother by his side, to know that he would always be within his line of vision, to keep at least _one_ thing as it always had been had overridden his common sense. Alphonse would have been perfectly safe with Winry and Pinako-- much safer than he had ever been with Edward. The amount of danger the pair had faced daily... It would have driven any child, any _civilian_, to the brink of living in constant fear.

But he could never bring himself to leave him behind. While it is true that without his brother with him Edward would most likely have been dead long before now, at least Alphonse would still be alive.

Older brothers were supposed to protect their younger brothers; to love them; to teach them; to always be there for them.

He had killed his.

Edward stumbled down the corridors, simply walking. He needed to get away from the one person he could never escape.

Himself.

* * *

Winry Rockbell stood in a stunned silence. She noticed that Major Armstrong had entered and was now standing beside her. She turned to him, an inquisitive look in her eyes. "Major, what did he mean?" 

Armstrong stood unnaturally still for a moment. He then lightly grabbed Winry's shoulders and guided her out of the Great Hall, closing the doors behind them and Mustang and Hawkeye, who rushed off to go looking for Fullmetal.

"Major, what's wrong with Edward?"

The was a long silence before either of them spoke again. Winry held her wrench loosely in her hand, fearing what she was about to hear.

Armstrong took a deep breath and stared into Winry's eyes before he spoke. "I shouldn't be the one telling you this, but you need to know.

"Scar attacked the boys in East City. He was going to kill Edward, but Alphonse stepped in the way."

Winry's eyes widened, and her breath hitched. "No... He didn't..."

"The seal was destroyed. Alphonse was killed."

The wrench slipped from Winry's hand as she gasped and dropped to her knees, disbelief covering her face. It couldn't be true, could it? Sure, Ed and Al were always doing dangerous things, but at much as she hated to admit it, they usually knew what they were doing. For Alphonse to be _dead_... was simply _inconceivable_. He was such a strong person-- he always beat Ed in their sparring matches-- how could Scar have killed him?

"Alphonse... no..."

"Miss Rockbell."

Winry looked up, mouth slightly open and eyes wide, into Major Armstrong's face. He had a stony look, and the mechanic was afraid of what else he might have to tell her.

"There's one more thing you need to know," he said, all sparkle gone from his persona. "Edward believes that he is responsible for Alphonse's death. He hasn't been eating or sleeping properly, and he hadn't spoken a word since that incident until tonight." The large man seemed infinitely smaller than he really was as he stared into the girl's eyes.

"I fear that he is trying to kill himself as punishment, Winry."

* * *

Harry Potter hated being left in the dark. 

Last year, it had cost him his godfather. Now, if he wasn't informed about everything that had to do with Voldemort, there would be hell to pay.

"I still think that there's another reason why they're here!"

Harry and his best friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were currently in front of a dying fire in the Gryffindor common room. None of the other students were concerned with Harry's yelling, for they were busy discussing dinner's events amongst themselves.

Hermione looked up from her homework, staring at her friend skeptically. "Harry, if there was another reason for their presence, don't you think that Dumbledore would have said something? After all," she continued at his harassed look, "if it's about protecting the school, he would have told the students at the feast. And if it's about V-Voldemort (Here, Ron and anyone within earshot shuddered.) I'm sure he'll tell you Saturday evening."

"She's got a point, mate," Ron agreed, earning himself an accusing glare. He shrugged helplessly, trying to tell him that he wasn't a traitor.

Harry let out a frustrated grunt, stopped his pacing (for he was beginning to wear a hole in the carpet), and plopped down into his favorite over-stuffed armchair. Ron and Hermione let him sit there sulking for a few minutes until he began to speak again.

"I at least want to write a letter to Remus," he said, whipping out a quill, pot of ink, and spare bit of parchment, "and see if I can get any answers out of him before I see Dumbledore on Saturday."

Hermione heaved a sigh of resignation. "Well," she said, "you'd better hurry with that letter if you want to send it tonight, because it's almost curfew."

* * *

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc could no longer move. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes could no longer run around like a maniac. 

Why was this?

Their stomachs were catching up to them.

The pair had missed dinner, and so now they were lying in the middle of an abandoned corridor, moaning in hunger.

"Hughes?"

A weak moan.

"Yes, Havoc?"

A pause. Then,

"If we get out of this alive, remind me never to go anywhere without a map ever again."

"Only if you do the same for me."

"Deal."

* * *

_Thump_. 

_Thump_.

_Thump_.

Edward slowly ascended the spiral staircase, lost in his thoughts. He didn't know where it would take him, and frankly, he didn't care. All he knew was that he wanted-- no, _needed_-- to be alone and that long spiral staircases had an uncanny ability to take him to isolated areas of the giant castle.

He kept going upwards until he became dizzy, and even then he only stopped for a moment to regain his balance. Finally, a beam of moonlight filtered down amongst the dimly lit torches, and he smelled fresh air as he exited the staircase into a large, open room.

Unlike the stuffy stone classrooms, this room was made almost entirely of wooden beams and highly resembled a barn. There were not walls separating the tower from the outdoors, but instead there were only a few wooden railings for safety. As he stepped inside, Ed felt something hard beneath his foot, heard a sickening crunching noise, and looked down to see the hay-strewn floor littered with skeletons of dead rats, mice, frogs, and lizards. Aside from the bones and hay, the only other things the room had inside of it were owls-- scores upon scores, possibly hundreds of owls flying in every direction-- flying outside to spend the night away from the castle-- returning from hunting with small animals inside their beaks-- and a scarce few still snoozing, heads tucked underneath one wing, not yet ready to enjoy the still young night.

Cautiously, Edward ventured further into the room, avoiding any owls in the air or sitting on the floor. He grimaced as he stepped in something that was most definitely not water before finally coming to a rest, leaning on one of the railings and taking in the view. Directly ahead was an enormous, towering black forest that stretched beyond his line of vision. In the far distance were magnificent mountains capped with snow. To his right lie a long, deep lake, clear and sparkling in the pale moonlight. To his left lie nothing but rolling fields, the lush green grasses swaying in the slight breeze. Ed sighed, somewhat calmed by the wondrous sight yet drifting deeper still into his depression.

_You'd never be able to see something like this back home,_ he thought. _All we have are cities and  
farmlands, barely any forests or rivers._ Tears began to cloud his eyes. _Alphonse would have loved to see this.  
_  
A particularly beautiful snowy owl, as if sensing his sadness, landed on the railing beside Edward. He looked down at her, seeing her large amber eyes stare up at him, and, carefully setting his crutch to the side and leaning on the railing, reached his hand out to pet her. She hooted in pleasure, giving his fingers an affectionate nip. Ed sighed, smiling sorrowfully at the owl, before she suddenly flew towards the entrance of the room. He stared at the spot where she had sat moments before, becoming more and more depressed.

_This is so unfair... Alphonse didn't deserve to die. Death is something that no one can avoid, but he should have gotten his body back first. To die and not even to be able to feel it... to simply stop existing... no one deserves that...  
_  
As he turned back to look at the landscape, he grew angry with himself, hot tears leaking from his eyes. _If only I hadn't been so selfish! It was _my_ fault he was in that armor to begin with! It was _my_ fault that Scar was following us! Alphonse didn't deserve to die-- _I_ did!_

Edward heaved himself up onto the railing with difficulty, his one arm wrapped around a support beam for balance. He was breathing heavily, his senses going haywire as his anger grew. I _was the one Scar was after! He should have killed _me_, not him!  
_  
All common sense gone now, Ed's impetuous nature got the better of him. He abruptly stood shakily on the outside of the railing, preparing to let go of his support.  
_  
Alphonse died when I should have... The least I can do is give the Gate what it wanted in the first place._

He let go.

_Alphonse...  
_  
He was falling.

He could feel the cool night air growing cold as he sped towards the ground, hear the rush of the wind as his body cut through the sky. Even though he was falling to his death, the scientist in himself was still analyzing everything-- the wind was cold because of the force due to gravity causing his body to rush down to earth-- his body sharply displacing the air molecules and causing them to reform was creating a loud sound-- and then, quite suddenly--

He stopped.

In midair.

Inches from the ground.

Jolted by the sudden stop, Ed could think of only one thing.  
_  
Damn my luck to hell._

* * *

Harry was thanking every deity he could think of that he had remembered to bring his wand. 

He, Ron, and Hermione had come up to the Owlery mere moments before. Hedwig, Harry's snowy white owl, and Pigwidgeon, Ron's pygmy owl, had immediately flown over to greet them. Pig had flitted incessantly around their heads, hooting noisily in his usual greeting, but as Hedwig landed on Harry's arm, she had looked distracted, staring in the general direction of an area around the corner and at the far side of the Owlery.

Curious, Harry had put all thoughts of his letter aside for the time being. When he had drawn closer, he had been very shocked to see the short, blond-haired boy who had arrived with the military personnel preparing to jump from the tower. As soon as the boy had let go of the railing, the wizard had swiftly reached into his robes, grabbed his wand, and cast a hurried "_Wingardium Leviosa_" to catch him.

Luckily, he had been just in time, for the alchemist had come to a stop mere inches from the ground.

Now, Harry was struggling to keep the spell in effect, and he desperately called for his friends' help. "Ron! Hermione! Get over here, and hurry!"

The two other children rushed over to their friend's beckon and, upon seeing his distress, quickly pulled out their own wands and cast the spell, helping him to pull the boy back up into the Owlery. It was slow, hard work, but they finally managed it, and they relaxed as they set him down on the floor, taking a closer look at who they had saved.

He had blond hair and piercing golden eyes, not unlike those of Hedwig. He was rather short, although it was hard to miss the knowlege only gained by age and experience in his contenance. What made the trio recognize him as the young alchemist, however, was the mysterious absence of his right arm and left leg.

Hermione was the one who remembered his name. "You're Major Edward Elric!" she said, excited at finally meeting him. "The Fullmetal Alchemist!" She raced over to where he sat in a heap on the dropping-strewn floor, helping him stand. The overly enthusiastic witch led him to the railing, which he leaned against, and then picked up his crutch and held it out to him.

Ron rolled his eyes at the girl's antics, walking over to the pair. He saw the annoyance at her in Edward's eyes, and he hurried to distract him from her stuttered fawning. "Are you alright, mate?" he asked. "You should really be more careful up here. I'm sure you know by now that it's a long way down."

Harry wisely stepped back several feet, recognizing the expression on the blond's face as one he himself had often worn the previous year-- one he had worn when he was about to explode.

The alchemist snapped up his head to look into Ron's eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed in irritation, and his expression was dark. Unlike Harry, however, he kept his temper in check, his voice a mere whisper.

"_No_," he said. "I'm _not_ alright. Because you idiot kids couldn't mind your own damn business."

Hermione bristled, rising to defend her friend. "We just saved your life! The _least_ you could do is say 'thank you!' "

In response, Edward turned to face the girl. "My point exactly," he said. And without another word, the alchemist snatched his crutch from Hermione's limp hand and clunked down the spiral staircase and out of sight.

After several silent, tense minutes, Ron opened his mouth, closed it again, swallowed, and spoke. "_Blimey_," he choked out, "what was that about?"

Harry shuffled his feet and moved to send his letter. He took his time, slowly attatching it to Hedwig's leg, and then watched her fly into the night until he could no longer see her. At last, still staring at where she had disappeared, he answered Ron's question.

"He didn't fall, Ron," he said. "He jumped."

Ron became speechless, and Hermione gasped in horror. She appeared liable to faint, wringing her hands together, before she finally stammered out a few words. "But," she said, "but-- that would mean-- that would mean that--"

"I know," Harry interrupted. "He was trying to kill himself."

* * *

AN: Well now, I think that's as big a cliffhanger as I'm going to get for this chapter. SO. What did y'all think? Was it worth the wait? Did you get at least a tiny bit emotional? No? Oh, dang it. And I worked really hard, too! Anyway, now you've read, so please review!

* * *

Edited: 6/22/07 


	5. Live

AN: Well, we made it to chapter five. First of all, I would like to thank all of the lovely reviewers who said that the last chapter was worth the wait. Second of all, I would like to ask a favor of all my reviewers. Please, I love knowing that you like my story, but could you _please_ write at least one full sentence? Ten words, and I want something other than "Will you please update soon pretty pretty pretty pretty please?" No "update soon" end of story. Understood? I want to know _what_ I'm doing to make you like it so much so that I can _keep_ doing it! I want at least ten _good_ reviews before I post the next chapter. Pretty please?

And finally, I would like to apologize for the wait. I'm sorry to say that it is due to laziness and lack of inspiration. I finished the plot, but now I can't seem to write anything. And to make it worse, I've got a new story stuck in my head.

Oh, yes, and I realize that that Ed's birthday is in winter and it happens in episode 23, but... meh. Pretend those episodes happened at a different time. It is AU, after all. I apologize to anyone this may bother.

Now that that's out of the way, you can finally find out where Havoc and Hughes are!

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.

* * *

Rehabilitation

Chapter Five

Live

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang raced down the corridor, shoving any students pushing curfew out of the way. Mere moments ago, he had paused in his search for the Fullmetal Alchemist to look out the window and clear his mind. He had not expected to see his subordinate falling through the air only to stop mere inches from the ground. He had watched with bated breath as Ed had slowly risen to and entered what Roy knew to be the Owlery before sprinting off to knock some sense into the midget's head.

_Damn it, Ed, I swear you Elrics will be the death of me!_

* * *

Edward hobbled down the blissfully clear hallway. He had just left the staircase to the Owlery, and all he wanted was to get as far away as possible. Before he had gone very far, however, he was stopped by the appearance of another person. His superior came running down the corridor, footsteps echoing off of the stone walls. Finally, he came to a rest in front of the young alchemist, an angry glare set on his face.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, Edward?!" Mustang clenched his right hand into a fist, resisting the urge to snap. Ed did nothing. "I don't care _what_ the hell you think you did to deserve death, but you _do-not-try-to-kill-yourself_!

Ed moved forward, wanting to continue on his way through the building. "Get out of my way."

The Flame caught the Fullmetal across the chest, not letting him pass. Edward glared into the colonel's dark eyes, perturbed at the fact that he had stopped him. Mustang glared right back at him, not giving an inch.

"_Nothing_," he began again, though quietly this time, "ever gives a person the right to commit suicide. Death is the coward's way out of a bad situation." He paused, gathering his thoughts. There was a long silence before he spoke again.

"After the Isval Rebellion, I was disgusted with myself. I had killed hundreds of innocent people, all for the State. I was going to kill myself, but I couldn't do it."

Ed was still glaring daggers at the man in front of him. "So what's your damn point?" he asked. "That you're an even bigger coward than I am? That the State eventually corrupts everyone and we're both idiots for joining? This is nothing I don't already know, bastard."

Mustang stayed silent for a moment, unable to argue with anything Edward had said. He knew that it was all true, every word of it. Still, though, he needed to talk some sense into the kid.

"My 'damn point,' Edward," he said, "is that if you die, you lose. You admit defeat, and you can't do a damn thing about it. But if you _live_, Ed, that is the true challenge. By _living_, you can repent for any sins you may have committed. You can make things _right_ again."

"Nothing can bring back the dead. You know that just as well as I do, you fucking bastard."

"But you _can_ save _other_ lives, idiot!" Mustang was growing very agitated by Edward's trademark smart-ass attitude. He pulled him towards him by his collar, hoping that a frontal assault would work against this enemy of his. "What the hell do you think Alphonse died for?! Do you think he just felt like getting his soul ripped apart?! He sacrificed his own life so that you could have yours! If you really feel like killing yourself, go ahead! I'm not going to stop you! But you would have to be pretty damn selfish to waste everything your brother gave to you!"

The colonel stopped shouting rather abruptly, breathing heavily. He had let his temper get the best of him, a rookie mistake. Hopefully, though, he had finally gotten through his subordinate's thick skill. _Damn teenagers and their grubby-assed attitudes._

Edward himself had averted his gaze to the floor. No matter how much he hated it, there had been a lot of truth in Mustang's words. _Al always _was_ trying to help others. He never gave a damn about himself._ He felt his eyes begin to burn, but he had spent the last of his tears that night. _Bastard Colonel Shit-head._

Mustang could practically see the waves of resignation coming off of Ed's body, so he finally released him. Ed stood still for several seconds before slowly bringing his head up to glare into Mustang's eyes once again. "I get it," he said. "I'm not going to kill myself, so let me pass."

Roy allowed himself to smirk as he stepped aside. "Good," he called as the blond passed him, "because I am _not _going to fill out any more damned paperwork because of you."

"Bastard."

* * *

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley stood at the base of the staircase to the Owlery, just out of sight. They had all waited several minutes to head back to Gryffindor Tower, hoping to avoid any awkward situations with Ed Elric. Unfortunately, they had been the sad victims of circumstance, and they had overhead a rather loud voice yelling in the hallway. They waited several more minutes, hoping that the people had moved on, but eventually could not risk standing around any longer; it was very close to curfew, and they needed to leave if they were to avoid a confrontation with the caretaker, Filch.

Luckily, the hallway was empty as the three piled out of the stairwell, and they hurried back to their Common Room without a word. Only once they had safely passed through the portrait of the fat lady on the seventh floor and once again taken up their normal positions in front of the fire did Ron break the silence.

"Blimey," he whispered (for the room was still buzzing with many Gryffindors chatting, playing games, and finishing homework), "what do you think could have happened to make him jump?"

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Honestly, Ronald," she said quietly, "don't you remember what Professor Dumbledore said at the Welcoming Feast? He and his brother were attacked by a mass murderer, and his brother was killed. Obviously, he died saving Edward's life."

"Oh."

Harry fingered the letter still in his pocket as silence fell over the group once more. Now more than ever before, he wanted answers to his questions. Why were these strange people here, really? If someone was trying to murder Major Elric, why would Dumbledore let them stay here and put the school at risk? (Then again, it could hardly be at any higher risk that it was already, as Harry was at the top of Lord Voldemort's hit list.) He had probably missed his chance to find out any information before his meeting with the headmaster Saturday evening, but he was very much looking forward to getting as many details as he possibly could out of the old wizard.

But still-- Why was this kid so important?

* * *

Winry Rockbell stood in the Room of Requirement, laying out the tools of her trade on a large metal table. She had been very shocked about the entire situation when she had learned where exactly she was, but she was also thrilled; just look at everything she can take apart! What made her very _upset_, however, was the fact that none of her wonderful automail would work inside the castle. Thankfully, though, the headmaster had placed a charm on all of her materials that would allow them to function.

She had just finished unpacking the last scraps of metal from the tool kit she had brought with her when she realized that she was going to need help.

From her brief encounter with Edward in the Entrance Hall, Winry had observed one major thing: _All_ of his automail was missing.

Including the ports.

Although Winry was a very accomplished automail engineer, she had never performed an automail surgery without the help and guidance of her grandmother. Unfortunately, Granny Pinako was still in Risembool.

"Damn."

Luckily, Major Armstrong was with Winry in the room, and she could threaten him to get what-- and _who_-- she needed.

"What's wrong, Miss Rockbell?"

Speak of the devil.

Armstrong had heard the mechanic's blunt statement, and he was now standing behind her. Winry slowly turned around, a frightening look on her face-- the same look that she got whenever she found something new to take apart. Armstrong suddenly felt very scared, and he stepped back, desperately trying to find any excuse to leave the room.

"Major Armstrong, you know how you just brought me here and I didn't have a chance to prepare?"

"...Yes..."

"Well, you see, Edo-kun needs to get the automail surgery redone because the ports were destroyed, but I've never done a surgery all by myself before. Would you _please_ be a _dear_ and go back to Risembool and get Granny Pinako for me?"

Armstrong relaxed, glad that his excuse had been given to him. "Of course, Miss Winry!" he said, his trademark enthusiasm shining through. "I shall be delighted to retrieve your most noble grandmother! Of course," he added apprehensively, "it will have to wait until another guard returns to protect you while I am away."

Winry's face darkened and she grumbled at the last bit of information, but she was happy with the fact that, at the very least, she would not be forced to give Edward his surgery alone.

Before either could say another word, however, the door opened. Lieutenant Hawkeye walked inside the room, a look of great agitation on her face. "He's been found," she said, without making eye contact with either of the other two in the room.

Winry's face lifted, and she rushed over to hug Hawkeye. "Oh, thank you so much, Lieutenant Hawkeye," she whispered. "Thank you."

Uneasily, Hawkeye returned the hug. She had never been very much of an emotional person, and she felt awkward at the sudden gesture. "You're welcome, Miss Rockbell."

After several more seconds, the two young women parted. Hawkeye cleared her throat and gathered herself before turning to Major Armstrong. "Fullmetal is still wandering around the castle, but Colonel Mustang is keeping a close eye on him." She paused, an agitated look crossing her face. "He absolutely refuses to take a rest until Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Second Lieutenant Havoc are found and can replace him." She said no more, but both Winry and Armstrong would to this day swear that they heard her mutter "Damn stubborn, obsessive bastard," under her breath.

After giving her a few moments to compose herself once more, Armstrong approached Lieutenant Hawkeye and saluted her. She gave a return salute, and they both fell to attention. "It has come to my attention that I must return to Risembool in order to escort Miss Pinako Rockbell here," he said. "I will leave the protection of Miss Winry Rockbell in your capable hands." Hawkeye nodded, and the two saluted each other once more before the major left the room, presumably seeking Dumbledore in order to obtain a portkey.

Winry continued to check her tools, making sure that they were in proper working order, while Hawkeye kept a close watch on the door. Several minutes later, Winry left her work table and sat down on a large, comfy pink pouf that she noticed sitting inconspicuously in a corner of the room.

"Well," she said, mainly to herself, "that's all I can do until Ed decides to show up." She then turned to Riza. "Where was he found, anyway?"

The soldier fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, refusing to meet the young girl's gaze. She eventually looked into Winry's eyes, a sympathetic look in her own. "Colonel Mustang found him just outside of the entrance to the Owlery, which I understand to be similar to a post office in the castle. Major Elric had tried to throw himself from the tower."

Winry said nothing, simply gripping her favorite wrench tightly in her hand. Slowly, she stood from her spot, and she hurled the wrench across the room, which then hit the center of a conveniently located bull's eye.

* * *

Sir Nicholas Mimsy de Porpington was floating along through the hallways of the second floor, having a pleasant conversation with the Grey Lady. "It is so _wonderful_ that you share my sentiments, my dear lady," he said, gesticulating greatly with his ghostly hands. "A school is never complete without a good, healthy rivalry, but the tensions between my house and that of the Baron are really quite overwhelming. I quite agree with the headmaster in the idea of interhouse relationships."

"You don't have to follow me, you know!"

Nicholas stopped and turned to his companion, quite insulted. "Well," he said in a haughty voice, if _that's_ the way you feel, I do believe it to be best that we part ways."

"Sir Nicholas," the Lady consoled him, "it was most certainly _not_ I who said that! Please do not leave me, I am having quite a lovely time with you!"

"Whether you like it or not, Fullmetal, I'm afraid that I do. I can't have you wandering off again when you need to be measured for your new automail. Oh, and in case you've forgotten, there's a mass murderer on the loose looking for you."

The ghosts stopped as two people rounded the corner. One was a boy with blond hair and only one arm and leg who looked no older than twelve. The other was a black-haired man wearing a strange blue uniform. The two approaching caught sight of the ghosts, and they stood still.

The young boy had wide eyes, and he seemed to be in shock. "Wh... what the hell?" he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. "What is going on here?"

The man in the uniform was unsurprised. "They're ghosts, Ed," he said. "They're all over the castle."

The boy, now known to be Ed, did an amazing impression of a goldfish.

This continued for several moments until he finally gathered his wits. "Gho--" He paused to clear his throat before continuing. "--Ghosts?" Ed sent an inquisitive look to the military man, eyes begging for answers.

"Yes," he said. "Apparently, a wizard's magic allows the soul a choice of whether or not to leave this plane after death."

Ed's eyes narrowed and gained a lost, hopeless look that no child should ever have. "I hate magic," he bit out.

With that final comment, he stalked down the corridor, and the other man followed him.

"That child has suffered far more than either you or I." Sir Nicholas looked at his companion, his eyes mirroring hers in an unspoken agreement. "I give my whole heart to that poor boy."

Slowly, they continued down the hall, though silently this time, each lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape had a headache. No, not just a headache, a migraine. Professor Severus Snape had a migraine. And as _any_ of his students would happily warn you-- yes, even the _Slytherins_-- a Professor Severus Snape with a migraine should be avoided at all costs.

Snape skulked through the dungeons, hoping beyond all reason that no imbecilic student had missed curfew and managed to end up in the undeclared Slytherin territory. Unfortunately for him-- and the poor saps he was about to run into-- there were worse things than students to worry about that night.

Peeves was afoot.

As the Potions master passed the blank stretch of wall that led to a hidden passageway between the dungeons and Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (_Why on Earth did the founders even _make_ this passage?_), he heard several very suspicious sounds.

The first was an explosion large enough to have come from one Neville Longbottom's cauldron.

The second was a high-pitched scream, shortly followed by another high-pitched scream.

The third was a loud, evil-sounding cackling.

Obviously, Peeves had set off some kind of explosion-- _Probably a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes product,_ Snape thought bitterly-- and frightened two young girls.

He wasn't very far off from the truth.

Quickly speaking the password, Professor Severus Snape stalked inside the small, hidden corridor, fully prepared to deduct points and award detentions as needed--

--And stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the site of the chaos.

"Ahahahahah! Poor little Havoc got himself into some havoc and can't get out!"

"No! My pictures! My precious Gracia and Elysia! He's _destroyed_ you!"

"No! My jacket's on fire! Put it out! Put it out! Put it out!"

After taking in the sadistic ghost (which was holding the evidence, an empty box of Weasley's Wizbang Firecrackers), the two military men (each mourning his own respective burning object), and the various fireworks flying around the cramped space, Snape wasted no time in taking control of the situation.

"Peeves!" he calmly stated, his voice raising no more than when he yelled at Potter for entering his pensieve, "Get out and behave yourself for the next _month_ or I swear on Salazar Slytherin's grave that I will have the headmaster throw you out once and for all!"

The poltergeist blew a raspberry at the professor and flew up and out through the ceiling.

Turning to the fires, Snape whipped out his wand and pointed it at the uniformed men. "_Aguamenti_!" A jet of water doused the pictures and both of the men in blue. Wanting to both escape the racket and keep the fireworks in quarantine, he grabbed the two by the scruffs of their jackets, pulled them out into the hallway, and shut the entrance before any Whizbangs could escape.

Seething, he turned to the soaked men and sent them a glare that could make _You-Know-Who_ shake in his robes. "_What_," he hissed, teeth bared, "are you two doing in _my_ dungeons? Your superior has been searching for you all day!"

The man with the straw-colored hair simply pointed to his companion. "I blame him."

The man with the blame, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, Snape recalled, sat in a silent shock. Then, quite suddenly, he jumped into the air and _hugged_ him.

Apparently, he had a death wish.

_No one_-- not even the Dark Lord himself-- is allowed to _hug_ Severus Snape.

Before his twitching fingers could reach his wand, however, Hughes started babbling.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! There was this moving staircase and a trapdoor to nowhere and a crazy ghost and a talking painting and we've been lost for so long and thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

-Twitch-

-Twitch-

"_Stupefy! Stupefy!_"

* * *

Roy Mustang paced in front of blank stretch of wall three times. Edward Elric was really beginning to doubt his superior's sanity.

After the confrontation with the two ghosts, Mustang had managed to convince Ed to head towards the Room of Requirement, where he would be outfitted for his new automail. All of Ed's doubts vanished, however, when a door suddenly appeared in the middle of the wall. Before either one could pass through the door, though, three figures came down the hall.

Two of the figures were floating in midair, heads knocking against the ceiling. The third was walking behind them, wand pointed to keep them suspended. A closer look showed them to be an unconscious Maes Hughes and Jean Havoc closely followed by a very pissed off Severus Snape. As soon as the two bodies were in front of Mustang, Snape dropped the spell that was holding them in the air.

"I do believe," he hissed through his teeth, "that these belong to you?"

Mustang, not knowing what else to do, nodded.

Quickly, Snape pointed his wand at each of the men on the floor. "_Enervate. Enervate._"

Havoc and Hughes both awoke, and they sat up groggily. Havoc put his head in his hands, feeling a migraine for some strange reason. "Did anyone get the number of that train?" He then heard a low growl, and both he and Hughes looked up into the face of Evil.

"If I _ever_ catch you in my dungeons again," Snape threatened, "you will wish that you had never been _born_." He said no more, but they did catch him fingering his wand before turning on his heel and swooping down the corridor, very much like an overgrown bat.

By this time Mustang's left eye was developing a twitch.

He quickly shoved Ed through the door, followed him in himself, slammed the door, and then proceeded to lock the dazed men outside. When that was done, he turned to see a gun pointed at him.

The Flame followed the arm attached to the pistol to the face of one Riza Hawkeye. He gracefully arched an eyebrow, wondering what he had done this time. His question was answered as Hawkeye spoke forcefully.

"You," she said, not removing the gun, "have been awake for the past forty-eight hours."

"So?" he asked, completely defeating himself by giving off a long, loud yawn.

Hawkeye gave off a warning shot, missing her superior by millimeters. "You," she then continued, "are going directly to bed, no questions asked."

Mustang smirked. "Now really, Riza, I know you have these certain feelings, but you must control your impulses to--" He was interrupted by another gun shot, this one scraping the edges of his uniform.

"You are sleeping alone, Sir."

"Exactly! What made you think anything otherwise?"

And with that, he rushed off to a bed that had been hidden in a nook of the room.

Meanwhile, Edward was getting accosted by his wrench-wielding mechanic. Winry had jolted awake from her light doze at the sound of the door slamming, and upon seeing Ed she jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Kami-sama, Edward, don't scare me like that!" she cried.

"Sorry, Winry," he whispered in return.

After releasing her friend and wiping the tears from her eyes, Winry then frowned and slapped him across the face. "What the hell were you thinking, Ed!"

Ed merely turned and walked away from the hysterical girl. "Spare me the lecture," he said. "I already got it from Mustang."

"Well apparently he didn't get through that thick skull of yours, Ed!" Winry stomped over and cut off his path, forcing him to look into her eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about, Winry?" he asked. "I'm not going to kill myself, okay?"

The blond girl was not about to give up so easily. "You're such an idiot, Edward!" she shouted. "Do you really think that Alphonse saved your life just so you could spend the rest of it sulking and blaming yourself!"

"I get it, already!" Ed snapped, trying to move around her, but Winry threw out her arm to stop him.

"No, you don't get it! Look, Ed! Scar is the one who killed him, not you! He was your younger brother, and he loved you! You were his whole world, Ed! What would Al think if he saw you moping around all the time?" She crossed her arms, waiting for an answer. "Well?"

He sighed, beginning to see her point. "He'd kick my ass until I stopped."

"Exactly!"

"Look," he said, "I know that what you're saying makes sense, Winry, I really do. But you just don't get it! Every single damn thing that ever happened to Al was my fault!"

"Ed--"

"No!" Edward raised his voice again, going into a tirade. "It was my fault he got stuck in that armor! It was my fault that he was dragged all over the country, in constant danger! It was _my_ fault that Scar was following us, Winry! Don't you get it?"

"_No_, Edward!" Winry grabbed the front of Ed's shirt and pulled him close to her. Her eyes were burning. When she spoke again, her voice was low, but it was full of rage and sorrow. "Alphonse died to save your life. He followed you all over the country because he loved you and wanted to take care of you. What was he always saying when you two would talk about the Philosopher's Stone, Ed? He said that he would fix you first. All that he ever wanted was for you to be happy. He looked up to you, and he loved you more than life itself. '_Just live and be content_', right?"

When she was through, there was a moment of silence between the two. She still held Ed close, breathing heavily. They remained that way for an unknown period of time before either of them spoke again.

Edward whimpered. "But," he whispered, "what am I supposed to do without him?"

Winry released him, but she then gently lifted his chin and stared directly into his eyes. "Live, Ed," she said gently. "And I mean _really_ live. '_Just live and be content_.' "

"Just live, huh?" Ed paused, thinking it over. "For Alphonse, I'll live."

* * *

AN: So, was it worth the wait? Please tell me. I really don't care if you say something that is completely random, but please, say something! I gave you ten _pages_, you can give me ten _words_, right? Ten reviews with ten words each will get me started on the next chapter.

Just so you know, I'm predicting ten chapters total. Not a long story, but it's not a very complicated plot line... Or is it?... Anyway, it's not an epic story like I'm planning my others to be, so I think it's nice to have one that's not overly long. At least you won't be reading basically the same thing every time, right?

Sugarpony

* * *

Edited: 6/22/07


	6. Changes

AN: Ugh. Would you believe it? My air conditioning broke during the HOTTEST week of the year! DAMN IT!

Okay... I would like to thank all of my wonderful reviewers! Thank you all so much for understanding my need for feedback! As a result, Chapter Six is finished _much_ sooner than expected. Now is when the story _really_ starts to progress.

Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.

* * *

Rehabilitation

Chapter Six

Changes

* * *

Saturday evening, Edward, Winry, Pinako, and Major Armstrong were all in the Room of Requirement. It had only taken three days for the mechanics to complete Ed's new automail, and everything was ready for the operation. Ed was lying on an examination table, and Winry and Pinako had their tools lain out on either side of him. Armstrong was standing guard at the door.

Winry approached her friend. "You don't have to do this, Ed," she said. "You can still back out this, you know."

Ed merely gave her a stubborn gaze. "No," he said. "I do."

Winry sighed. "All right, then. Are you ready, Grandma."

"Winry, at my age, you can be nothing _but_ ready," she said. "Are you ready for this, Edward?" she then asked. When she received a nod in return, she signaled to Winry, and the operation began.

It was a slow and agonizing process for all of those involved. Edward was trying his best to keep still and silent, but it was extremely difficult. Automail surgery is the most painful experience ever imagined, and it took its toll on him as he whimpered and thrashed around on the table. Every time he would jerk or a sound would escape his lips, Winry and Pinako would wince, feeling terrible about the immense pain they were causing him.

Twenty minutes after the surgery began, Pinako paused in her work, Winry following her example. "You know, Edward," she said, "it's all right if it hurts. You don't have to be strong for anyone."

The duo resumed their work. Shortly after, a wailing, pain-filled scream could be heard from all parts of the castle.

* * *

"Acid Pops."

A stone gargoyle in an empty corridor sprang to life, stepping aside to reveal a spiral staircase. Harry Potter climbed the stone steps, eager to speak with the person awaiting him at the top. He knocked on the wooden door, and a warm voice spoke, "Enter."

Inside was a circular office filled with many silver instruments on individual tables. Ahead of Harry was a desk, a chair sitting in front of it. Behind the desk sat Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry greeted.

"Good evening, Harry. Please, sit down."

Harry sat, but he fidgeted in his seat, which did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore. "Something is on your mind, Harry," he said, peering through his half-moon spectacles. "May I be of any assistance?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "Sir, the military that's here- do they have anything to do with Voldemort? Or the Order?"

The old man gave a small smile. "I had a feeling you would ask me about them," he stated. "No, Harry, these people have absolutely nothing to do with either Lord Voldemort or the Order of the Phoenix."

The boy's expression turned to a puzzled one. "But then, sir," he asked, "what are they doing here?"

Dumbledore heaved a large sigh. "It is as I explained at the Welcoming Feast," he said. "Major Elric has been attacked on several occasions by a known serial killer. On the last such time, his younger brother was lost, and he himself was terribly injured."

Harry frowned. "Yes, I understand that, sir, but why did they come _here_? Wouldn't it be better to be in a military safe house or something?"

"Colonel Roy Mustang," the professor explained, "is an old acquaintance of mine. He helped Nicholas Flamel and I- I dare say you remember my friend Flamel?- with our research on the Philosopher's Stone. He came to me asking for help, and I gladly obliged.

"Now," he continued, seeing his student about to ask another question, "I believe we have reached an occasion of which we each believe his own topic of discussion to be the more important one, as is bound to happen, but I am certain you have been wondering what you will be learning in these lessons, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then let us begin..."

* * *

Harry left his lesson shortly before nine o' clock that evening, mind reeling with all of its newly acquired information. As he rounded a corner, he realized that he was headed in the direction opposite that of Gryffindor Tower. He was about to turn around when he suddenly heard a terrifying noise.

A long, bloodcurdling scream filled the air, chilling Harry to the core. He looked upwards, for that was from where the yell seemed to originate, as another one, even more horrifying than the last, passed through the ceiling and reverberated off of the stone walls. Harry immediately raced through the hall towards the nearby staircase, climbing to the floors above, even more screams ringing in his ears. He ran down another corridor as the sound grew louder until he finally came to a rest before the blank stretch of wall he knew to hide the Room of Requirement.

He paced back and forth three times, wracking his brains for what the room could possibly be serving as, the screams increasing in size and volume all the while. He looked to where the door should have appeared, but the wall remained empty. The boy groaned, frustrated, and resumed his pacing. Finally, as he realized he could not stay any longer without risking breaking curfew and a confrontation with Filch, he gave a sad look to the wall and hurried to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Once safely inside the Common Room, Harry walked to the fireplace and collapsed in his favorite armchair. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, both with wearied looks on their faces- the screams were loud enough to penetrate the Gryffindor Tower, and most of the students were still awake with either scared or sickened expressions. They simply sat there in silence, none of the three wanting much to start a conversation.

Even though the screams finally stopped several hours later, no one in the castle slept that night.

* * *

Sunday morning in the Great Hall, students and professors alike were falling asleep in their breakfasts. Hermione had to stop Ron from pouring pumpkin juice on his cereal twice, and even Professor Snape was looking worse for the wear, merely rearranging the food on his plate. The monotony was broken, however, when the doors opened and the morning military parade marched towards the Head Table.

Most of the students had become used to the usual mealtime parade during the past week, but several curious students still watched them cross the Great Hall every day. Even though they were suffering from lack of sleep, they still fulfilled the morning routine. A few heads looked up from each of the tables before lazily dropping back down to their meals, but they quickly snapped up again, the students rubbing sleep from their eyes as they stared at Major Elric. As in any school, it didn't take long until the entire Hall knew about the abnormality.

Major Edward Elric was walking towards the Head Table. Instead of the usual scrubs, he wore black pants, a black shirt, a black jacket, and a long read coat on the back of which was a strange symbol of a snake wrapped around a cross. On his hands were white gloves, and on his feet were black combat boots. When he reached his usual seat, he sat, filled his plate with food, and immediately began to eat at a slow pace.

The Hall filled with whispers, every student now speaking of the sudden change. At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were having their own discussion. As usual, Ron was sputtering nonsense. "What the-- How the-- Bloody hell-- Wasn't he missing an arm and a leg at dinner last night?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, you are the most _insensitive_ person I have _ever_ met!"

"What? It's true!"

Harry spoke before the fight could escalate. "Look, you two," he said, "I talked with Professor Dumbledore last night."

Ron suddenly became wide awake. "I forgot about that," he said. "What did he have to teach you?"

"I'll tell you about that later," said Harry. "Listen, I asked him about these military people."

"Oh!" Hermione's eyes lit up. "Did you find out anything useful? I've just been so worried ever since-- well--" She couldn't finish her sentence, but there was no need. Both Harry and Ron knew that she was thinking of when they met with Major Elric in the Owlery and then overheard his conversation with Colonel Mustang.

Harry nodded. "It's not much," he admitted, "but at least it's something. They're not a part of the Order like I thought. Dumbledore owed Mustang a favor, so he's letting them stay here."

"A favor?" Ron frowned, thinking this over. "What kind of favor?"

"Apparently," Harry elaborated, "Mustang helped him and Flamel with their research on the Philosopher's Stone."

"Oh!" The two boys turned to Hermione, who looked as if she had just realized something very important. "I remember reading something about the Philosopher's Stone _some_where... I think it was in reference to the Sorcerer's Stone!"

Harry blinked. "There's a difference?" he asked. "I just assumed they were the same thing."

"No, no," Hermione said. "It's _completely_ different... the Philosopher's Stone is something created by alchemy, with absolutely no magic involved. The Sorcerer's Stone is created through both."

Ron stared at the girl, amazed and exasperated at the same time. "Since when do you know this?"

Hermione gave her friend a withering look. "I've been doing some research on alchemy this past week, since we have State Alchemists visiting."

"You know," Harry said, "that's actually not a bad idea! Hermione, keep researching, and let us know if you find anything. Ron and I will do the best we can to help, but it isn't going to be easy with all this homework we keep getting."

"If you would just use the homework planners I've given to the both of you--"

"Can we _please_ not talk about homework," Ron whined, his sleepy mind not yet up to the task of focusing on schoolwork. "So did you find out anything else last night, Harry?"

"Not about this, no," he said. "But there _was_ something else that happened _after_ the meeting. Do you remember that screaming we heard all night?"

Ron snorted. "Who could forget?"

"Well," Harry said, "I was on my way back to the Tower last night when I first heard it. I followed the noise, and I found out that it was coming from the Room of Requirement."

* * *

Later that morning Edward was walking around the grounds outside. The air was still chilly, and the grass was still wet with dew. Winry and Pinako had left shortly after breakfast but not before giving Ed a final warning to "stay safe, stop moping, and for goodness' sake don't wreck your automail again!" After they had departed, Edward had resumed his usual wandering around the castle, but he had gone to explore outside after two solid hours of rumors following him through the students, ghosts, and even paintings.

The alchemist breathed in the crisp morning air, savoring the way it reminded him of Risembool. He started walking in the direction of the lake, Hughes and Havoc in tow, but changed direction in favor of the Quidditch Pitch when he saw several students sitting in the shade of a beech tree near the water's edge. _Damn it,_ he thought, _if I knew that this would happen, I wouldn't have gone through with the damn automail surgery!_

Indeed, all the rumors he had heard that morning were about how his missing limbs had suddenly appeared. There were many theories, the most popular of which were magicked wooded limbs and Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, having regrown them. Edward was understandably fed up with it all- so much, in fact, that he had snapped at Hughes when he had attempted to show him pictures of his wife and daughter, sufficiently stifling the man for the morning. Ed felt a twinge of regret for the incident, but as he neared the stadium, he realized that it had been worth it for the peace and quiet he had been having ever since then.

Ed pushed open the heavy wooden doors, walking into the empty pitch. He kept moving until he reached the center of the field, where he allowed himself to collapse face down into the grass. _Automail surgery really takes it out of you,_ he thought. He yawned, inhaling the smell of the sweet grass. _I could just stay here forever._

Unfortunately, the boy was rudely taken from his thoughts as he heard footsteps around him. He didn't look up, instead choosing to burrow his face into the soft ground. It wasn't long before he heard a voice.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" It was a young man, probably around Ed's age, although his voice held the same slimy tone as many corrupt politicians he had dealt with the past three years as a State Alchemist. "What is this little pip-squeak doing on our Quidditch Pitch?"

"Hold your tongue." By the sound of his voice, Hughes disliked this person as much as Ed himself. "State your business or leave."

"No need to get testy," the voice said again. "I've just come to get in a little flying before the pitch gets overrun by mudbloods."

_Flying?_ Edward heaved a sigh before turning over and pushing himself off of the ground to get a look at the intruder. In reality, there were three boys standing in front of them. Two of them were big, ugly, and stupid looking, standing on either side of the third, who had slick blond hair, cold gray eyes, and a smirk to rival Mustang's. After examining them for several moments, Ed spoke.

"If memory serves me, you need a magic broom in order to fly."

If possible, the boy's smirk grew even wider. "Well look at that," he said, "he can talk! And here I thought he was just a poor little crippled muggle coward."

Havoc stepped forward, deliberately blowing smoke from his cigarette into the blond boy's face. "You know," he said, "I could shoot you and tell the Colonel that you were harassing Fullmetal, and I'll bet he'll give me a promotion."

The boy let out a derisive laugh. " 'Shoot?' What's that, some muggle word for 'put in detention?' "

Hughes smiled wryly, taking out his revolver and cleaning it like Hawkeye on a bad day. "Not exactly," he said. "You see, I point this at you, pull the trigger, and then your little smart-ass body is full of bullet holes."

Rodent Boy, as Edward now thought of him, raised one elegant eyebrow. He brought out a stick of wood, which the alchemist now knew to be a wand, and began twirling it between his fingers. "I could hex all three of you before you could do that. And even if you _did_ manage to cause me any harm, you would be in trouble with my father's... associates."

That last comment made Edward's blood boil even more than when he called him short. He pushed past all five of the people in front of him with full intentions to find another place to relax. He had barely passed the Rodent Boy and his goons when the irritating voice called out to him once again.

"You're more of a coward than I thought. It's no wonder that your brother's _dead_."

Ed had already transmuted his automail into his trademark short blade and was about to turn around and teach the kid a lesson Fullmetal style when another voice cut in and something whizzed past him in the air. He spun around to see Rodent Boy and his thugs all crying out, each sprouting boils on his face, before they ran off towards the castle, presumably in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Edward turned around again to see three students, all with their wands out and pointed to where the other three had been standing moments prior. They lowered their wands before approaching the alchemist and his guards.

There were two boys and one girl, and they all seemed to form some sort of close knit group like the three who had just left. The first boy was tall with red hair and freckles, while the second was shorter (though nowhere near as short as Ed himself) and had messy black hair, bright green eyes, glasses, and a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. The girl had bushy brown hair, and she was carrying several books in her arms despite it being the weekend. Awkwardly, Ed recognized them as the students he had met in the Owlery earlier that week.

The shorter boy spoke first. "I apologize for Malfoy. He had no right to say that." Ed nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm Harry Potter, and these are my friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

The girl, Hermione, smiled politely, but the redhead, Ron, was gaping in the direction of Ed's exposed automail. "What-- how-- didn't you-- _huh_?"

Harry and Hermione followed his gaze, and Ed transmuted his arm back to normal. Wanting to rid himself of both the three students and the rumors following him, he gave a quick explanation. "It's automail," he said shortly. "It connects to the nerves in my shoulder and leg and allows me to use it like ordinary limbs."

They stood there in a tense silence for several minutes before Ed moved toward the exit, Hughes and Havoc nodding to the trio in thanks before following. As he was about to pass through the doors, Ed paused. "Thank you," he said, and he walked out of sight.

* * *

Once again, it was not long before the entire school knew of the fight in the Quidditch Pitch. Much to the delight of everyone except Slytherins, Malfoy had been too embarrassed at being caught off guard to tell anyone who had hexed him and his cronies. Much to the relief of Edward, the school also knew of his automail, so he no longer was enduring rumors about where his limbs had come from spreading through the halls, but much to his chagrin, the students had yet to stop staring at him, and so he had taken residence in the abandoned Astronomy Tower after lunch, Mustang at his side, and had been there for the entire afternoon.

Ed stared at the ceiling, which was charmed like that of the Great Hall to look like the sky outside. It was a beautiful clear blue in color, dotted here and there with small, puffy white clouds. Once again, he was painfully reminded of his hometown residing in the farming country of Amestris.

The boy sighed as he glanced around the room. Posters of constellations, planets, and moons littered the walls. On the front desk were piles of books, each having something to do with the heavens, several pieces of parchment, one eagle feather quill, and a pot of black ink.

It had been strange for Edward when he had first realized that everyone in the school still used quills and parchment as writing utensils. After all, shouldn't witches and wizards have more advanced technology than regular people? This was only one of the things of this new world that confused Ed.

Putting these thoughts aside, Ed turned to remembering his brother. He knew that he had been a fool the past week; Alphonse had always put his older brother before himself, and he would probably have given Edward a fair beating for not taking care of himself. Taking the remnants of the broken seal out of his coat pocket, Ed stared down at the metal pieces as he recalled Al's habit to pick up stray kittens and hide them in his armor in order to keep them safe. He had been a kind, caring soul, and he had always hated for any living creature to be harmed. _He was such an innocent person..._

And yet all of that had been taken away from the world by one man: an angry Isvalan who had sworn on his god that he would not harm him. The irony of it all was overwhelming. Ed's blood boiled at the thought of the scarred man, and yet he knew that Alphonse would not have wanted him to seek revenge. Still, he needed to do _some_thing.

Edward needed peace of mind, and that was not something he could find by sitting still. He needed to get over his self-pity, and he needed to do it quickly. Nothing would be accomplished if he kept moping. _Even if I'm stuck in this castle,_ he thought, _I can still do something. Maybe I can find something in the library or from the classes here that can help me._

_I know Al wouldn't want me to go looking for revenge, but I need to do something for myself before I can move on. I need to catch Scar so that he can't hurt anyone else._

"Ed." He was broken out of his reverie by Colonel Mustang's voice. He looked to his superior and nodded, showing that he had his attention. "It's almost time for dinner. We should be heading down to the Great Hall."

The blond boy stood, stretched, and nodded again, allowing Mustang to lead him out of the Tower and down to dinner.

* * *

That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione could be found in the library. Dinner had been no different from breakfast and lunch; all of the students were still discussing the mysterious Edward Elric. Now, the three were following through with their plans to research alchemy, scouring the bookshelves to find any material on the subject.

Ron grunted. "We've been in here for hours," he said. "There's nothing in _any_ of these books. Hermione, have you checked the one you found in first year with the Sorcerer's Stone in it?"

The girl nodded. "Yes," she said. "I've already told you, there's nothing in it except for a small reference to the Philosopher's Stone."

The redhead allowed his forehead to fall to the table, and a loud _thump_ echoed, earning him a glare from Madame Pince, the strict librarian. "Can we go to bed now?" he whined. "I'm tired, and we've got Snape in the morning!"

Hermione threw her friend a glare that rivaled that of Madame Pince, and Ron immediately threw his arms up in defense. "I'm only saying!"

Ron was spared the wrath of the girl as Harry came back to the table, a dusty old book in hand. "I've found something," he said. "Look. _An Introduction to Basic Alchemy_!"

"I _knew_ the library must have _some_thing about it!" Hermione grabbed the book from his hand and opened it on the table. She and the two boys rifled through the pages, taking in all of what was written. Hermione frowned at what she saw. "Well it's no wonder there's hardly anything here," she said. "This has absolutely nothing to do with magic! It looks as if everything is based on scientific principles and mathematic equations... And there's this one phrase that keeps popping up everywhere: 'Equivalent Exchange.' "

Harry frowned as well. "You're right," he said. "I don't even see anything about the Philosopher's Stone in here... Wait! Here's something!"

The three leaned in to the book, concentrating on the tiny print on the pages. " '_The Philosopher's Stone is a supposed alchemic amplifier that may allow the user to bypass the rule of Equivalent Exchange. Many alchemists seek this mythical Stone in the hopes that it will a successful Human Transmutation._

" '_Human transmutation, the art of bringing a dead person back to life, is, of course, forbidden, as it is morally wrong and has never been successfully completed. All recorded attempts have resulted in the death of the alchemist._' "

The three students paused, rereading the passage several times. Finally, they all looked up from the book, the same thought on all of their minds.

_Can alchemy really bring a person back from the dead?_

* * *

AN: There's nearly ten more pages worth of Chapter Six! I hope you've all enjoyed it! This chapter was extremely hard for me to write... It's another one of those boring transition chapters where almost nothing happens but is needed in order for the plot to progress. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think!

-Sugarpony

* * *

Edited: 6/22/07 


	7. Lessons to Be Learned

AN: I am terribly sorry for the delay with this chapter! Despite popular belief, I have _not_ been holding it for ransom. I've had it planned out since before I finished Chapter Six, but I just haven't been able to write it. I've also been _extremely_ busy. This is my senior year, and I've and a ton of work to do including my Senior Project- mixed with a bad case of writer's block, might I add. As such, I hope you all can forgive me for the terribly long wait for this update.

_Any_way, I'm very sorry for the long wait! Here's Chapter Seven.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.

---

Rehabilitation

Chapter Seven

Lessons to Be Learned

---

Monday morning came as a surprise for all of Hogwarts. As Professor McGonagall's third year Transfiguration class filed into the classroom, each student was shocked upon entry by none other than Major Edward Elric, who was seated at one of the back desks, an escort on either side of him. An unspoken questions passed through each of their minds: What in the name of Merlin was the mysterious blond alchemist who had spent the entirety of the past week _avoiding_ the students doing sitting in on a lesson?

Professor McGonagall said nothing as she strode inside, merely casting a curious glance in their direction. "Settle down, class," she said as she moved behind her desk. With a wave of her wand and a muttered spell of _"Accio hedgehogs_," she Summoned a box full of small, quilled animals into her awaiting arms. The professor then proceeded to pass one of the creatures to each student, explaining the lesson.

"Today we will continue practicing animal Transfiguration." She spoke in a calm, practiced voice, well accustomed to the ongoing chore of getting her students to focus on the task at hand. "You will be putting our last lesson into practical use, transforming your hedgehog into a pincushion. Get to work."

Her students now busy with their meager wand waving, McGonagall took a moment to observe her guests. On Elric's right sat Lieutenant Havoc lazily glancing around the room, his ever-present smoking cigarette beginning to irritate her nose. On the boy's left sat Major Armstrong, towering over the others even though he was cramped in a seat meant for someone half his size, carefully watching all possible entrances into the room, a few of which only McGonagall herself and a few... _select_... students knew. Elric himself, however, was the embodiment of a rain cloud waiting to burst over a busy city. He sat hunched over the desk with his head downcast, his bangs covering his face (Although she was absolutely certain that he was observing everything around him.) and adding to his dark expression. His fists were clenched on top of the desk, wearing what the woman was sure would become permanent wrinkles in his gloves. After several moments of wondering what could be bothering the boy, Professor McGonagall looked towards one of her students as he let out a cry of happiness, a pincushion lying before him.

At that exact moment, Edward Elric violently stood from his chair and began to yell.

"What the _hell_ are you teaching these children, damn it?!" McGonagall's head snapped in the direction of the young alchemist, her lips thinning. She could see a fire blazing in his eyes. "Change it back!"

The poor student was quivering in his robes, sending worried glances to his professor. "But... but I don't know how to..."

_"__You don't mess with living creatures, damn it! You don't go against the natural laws!_"

McGonagall's nostrils flared and her eyes sharpened as she defended her student. "Major Elric, I can assure you that the process is completely reversible. Have no fear, each and every one of the pincushions will be turned back into hedgehogs at the end of the class. Now, I would appreciate it if you would _sit down_." The professor looked to his escorts for support. Havoc was sprawled out on the floor, trying to become invisible. Armstrong was standing beside Edward, a calming hand on his shoulder-- which had absolutely no effect other than holding him in place because, in his haste, he had placed in on Ed's _right_ shoulder.

Seeing his words had little effect on the magical folk in the room, Edward huffed, spun on his heel, and stomped toward the door. He paused before he left the room, however, speaking over his shoulder in a voice barely above a whisper. "A word to the wise: Don't fuck around with nature. It only gets people killed or screwed over for life."

Professor Minerva McGonagall watched as his two escorts followed their charge after a hasty apology and turned back to her class, unnerved by the young soldier's words.

---

In truth, he had been bored. Ed was tired of doing nothing but avoiding people and moping all day, and he wanted to do something productive. He was also curious about what this magic could offer him-- maybe it could help him fulfill his quest of catching Scar. If so, enduring all the stares and whisperings would be well worthwhile.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He had be absolutely abhorred at the complete lack of respect for animals that these wizards and witches showed. Honestly, who goes around turning a hedgehog into a pincushion? What's the point?

More importantly, the lesson had reminded him of Nina.

Transfiguration as a whole had him vexed. How is it possible to get without giving? Or to change a metal goblet into a wooded desk? Where was the equivalence? As a scientist and an alchemist, Edward simply could not accept this particular form of magic. Using animals as a starting point was morally wrong. It would be taking away the life of something for sake of vanity!

Ed tromped through the hallways, Armstrong and Havoc in tow. There had to be _some_ class around here that made sense.

---

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of their Defense Against the Dark Arts class were, once again, attempting (and mostly failing) to jinx one another without shouting the spells-- although Harry was almost ready to start cursing Snape due to the fact that he was, once again, pointing out that he had yet to cast a single spell silently. He was just about to lose his temper when a distraction came in the form of Major Elric and his entourage.

The short blond threw the door open, letting it bang against the wall. All of the students stopped their futile attempts at practicing, wanting to see how their professor would react to this new interruption.

Snape sneered, putting his patented glare on his face. He met the military men halfway across the room, ready to pounce like one of Hagrid's pets on a bad day. He spared several seconds to use his glare of utmost loathing usually reserved for Harry (who, quite understandably, backed away in terror) before addressing the group as a whole. "Is there something I can do for you, _Sirs_?" he asked sarcastically.

Edward looked the man straight in the eye, not the least bit intimidated. "Piss off, bat breath."

The entire room was deadly silent. Snape looked taken aback for a moment before bending low to look the alchemist in the eye.

"I beg your pardon, _pip-squeak_?"

A dark look crossed Ed's face, and the two men behind him paled and mirrored the panic on the faces of Snape's students.

Harry very suddenly feared for his life.

Major Armstrong was barely able to grab Ed by the arms and hold him back before he attempted to-- for all intensive purposes-- murder Professor Snape.

_"__WHO ARE YOU CALLING A GRAIN OF RICE SO SMALL IT WOULDN'T EVEN FEED AN AMOEBA?!_"

---

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, dutifully patrolling the corridors near the batty Divination teacher's tower, smirked. He turned to his partner, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

"Good to know Fullmetal's getting back to his old self."

---

Edward heaved deep breathes after abandoning his flailing, hanging limp in Armstrong's strong arms. Ninety percent certain, that his charge would make no more attempts at running through the professor with his trademark short blade, he gently set him on his feet and let go.

He should have held onto him.

Ed charged like a bull seeing red, clapping his hands and slamming them onto the floor. Snape had no time to react as a stone hand arose from the floor, enclosing him in its fist as it knocked his wand out of his hand in the process. The boy then stormed out of the room, red coat billowing behind him (very effectively imitating Snape's robes), Armstrong and Havoc following.

Nobody moved. After several painful minutes, a voice was heard.

"Does this mean class is over?"

"_GET OUT!_"

---

Lunchtime eventually came and passed, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were once on their way to the library to continue researching alchemy. Rumors had once more circulated the castle, and lunch had been filled with whisperings of Major Elric's exploits once again. Unsurprisingly, this mysterious alchemist was the trio's conversational topic. "You know," Hermione said, "it really wasn't very wise for Major Elric to attack Professor Snape like that."

Ron snorted. "Oh, come on, Hermione! He was bloody brilliant! He got us out of class, and Snape was stuck in that stone until Colonel Mustang was able to set him straight!" He sighed contentedly. "You know, this can rival Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret."

Harry frowned. "Hermione's right," he said. "Did you see Snape's face at lunch? Major Elric's made enemies with every Slytherin in the castle in one morning."

They abruptly cut off their conversation as they entered the library, not wanting to be thrown out by Madame Pince before they had actually done any work. They headed to their usual table, pulled out the tome on alchemy, and continued in hushed voices. "Did you hear about what he did in McGonagall's class?" Ron asked. "He threw a right little conniption! Scared the bloody hell out of the poor little third years."

Hermione, consumed in the book, brushed him off. "It's understandable, really," she whispered. She then pointed to a specific passage. "Look here: _'One of the most depraved forms of alchemy is the art of creating chimeras, combining two or more living animals. The most famous chimera is the one produced by Shao Tucker, the Sewing Life Alchemist, which could speak the human language. Tucker was later executed for_-' " Here she stopped, paling, before continuing in a trembling voice. " _'Tucker was later executed for creating a second chimera able to speak the human language by combining his pet dog and his six-year-old daughter. It was also revealed that his first chimera had been created by Tucker transmuting his wife._' "

The group looked up, sharing a horrified look. None of them noticed that none other than Edward Elric had come to stand behind them, sadness radiating from his countenance. They were surprised out of their stupor by his voice. "You wizards can do so much with your magic that you don't think twice about transfiguring a living creature." The students spun around, almost ashamed of what they had been caught reading. "You completely ignore the fact that you're taking away the life of something, all because you can restore it to its original form. No one ever has the right to decide if something should live or die, no matter the circumstances."

He reached to the table, picking up and shutting the book with one hand. He sighed and closed his eyes wearily. "Alchemy is completely different from magic. It's based completely on science, and it follows the laws of nature. We alchemists may be the closest things to gods that my world has, but we can't create life in any form. Your world goes against all laws of nature, and it completely ignores the scientific fact of equivalent exchange."

Ed opened his eyes, and they took on a faraway look. It was obvious to Harry and his friends that he was no longer talking to them, merely thinking aloud. "This magic... It goes against everything I've ever known! There _must_ be equivalence somewhere! If not... then what have we been punished for?"

The blond boy suddenly started, realizing that he was not alone. He gave a small smile and chuckled embarrassedly, shuffling awkwardly. "Never mind," he said. "If you don't mind, I'm going to keep this book. You don't need to be looking into such things without proper instruction." He was completely solemn now, any trace of laughter of anxiousness wiped away. "If you can't understand equivalence, there's no point in attempting alchemy. Transmuting living creatures is irreversible. If you try something too advanced thinking it's similar to your magic, you'll only get hurt. Things are forbidden for a reason."

The three sat there, not knowing what to say. The alchemist had moved on to a shelf containing books on magical theory, and a few moments later Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and First Lieutenant Hawkeye rushed past the students, the woman muttering about being held up by "obsessive fathers and their damned pictures."

---

Colonel Roy Mustang smirked contentedly as he walked through the corridors. He had recently finished his 'chat' with none other than Professor Severus Snape, which had proven to be quite entertaining. None of the teachers had wanted to risk hurting the dark man with shoddy spellwork, so the job of rescuing him had fallen to the only alchemist available (for Armstrong had been guarding Ed, and Fullmetal would have been more likely to slit the professor's throat than to release him from his stone prison). Once he had been freed, the... what was that phrase?... "greasy git" had vented his frustrations upon his savior, who had been more than willing to oblige him with a fiery game of cat and mouse.

Yes, that had been a very interesting morning.

Now, he was on his way to the headmaster's office to offer the elderly man a proposition. He came upon the stone gargoyles guarding the entrance to his quarters and, speaking the password, ascended the winding staircase. Before he could even knock on the door, a voice from within spoke "Enter," and Mustang strolled leisurely into the circular room.

As always, the shining silver instruments strewn about on tables softly _whirr_ed and puffed smoke, and the many portraits of the previous headmasters adorning the walls whispered to one another inconspicuously. Mustang gave his normal salute to the professor, who was sitting behind his desk, relaxing once the man had giving him a nod.

"Please, have a seat, Roy," Dumbledore offered, gesturing to a cushioned chair opposite his. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

The colonel sat, businesslike as usual, and allowed himself a smile. "I have a proposal for you," he said. At the headmaster's silence and curious glance, he continued. "As you know, all State Alchemists must continually practice alchemy in some form, whether it be used on a mission or through experiments. Now that Fullmetal has regained his limbs and ability to use his alchemy, he must be given some task with which to busy himself.

"Of course, with a murderer on the loose, we must continue to impose upon your gracious hospitality until we are ordered otherwise. Because of this, I humbly ask you a request. Allow us to set up an Alchemy Club for you students, which Fullmetal will teach. This seems to be the best option as it may be temporary (for we never know when we must leave), and it will also allow your students to gain some extra knowledge."

Dumbledore beamed at his young friend. "Why, that sounds like a wonderful idea! We absolutely must begin sorting out the details right away.

"Lemon drop?"

---

First Lieutenant Hawkeye suppressed an impatient sigh as Edward tossed aside another book. Her young charge had been skimming through every book on which he could lay his hands for the past hour, yet he apparently had not found that for which he was searching. She glanced at her partner, who had elected to adore his photographs throughout the monotony, and found that even he was becoming bored. Still, they had a job to do, and Riza would make sure that they fulfilled it.

Yet another book was discarded, and Hughes groaned. "Haven't you found what you need yet?" he asked, but he was only rewarded by the next apparently useless book being thrown in his face instead of the growing pile. The dark-haired man grumbled, obviously bypassing boredom and allowing irritation to settle in its place. "You know," he said, "if you tell me what you're looking for, I can help you. I'm not in the Department of Investigations for nothing, after all." Once again, he was muffled by a book to the face, this one a particularly thick volume.

Hearing the repeated _thump_s, the librarian Madame Pince twitched noticeably. She dared not charge to the table, yell at the alchemist, and throw him out of the library as she would with a student, for she had attempted it after the first ten minutes and received nothing more than an aggravated stare and a note from Professor Dumbledore giving the boy unrestricted access to the vast number of books. Riza had begun entertaining herself by guessing how much longer it would be until the woman lost control of herself and threw a fit.

Another book _thump_ed in addition to the others, and she twitched again. A tick was beginning to develop above her left eye. As one more _thump_ sounded and her head snapped up, presumably to have a conniption similar to Edward's "I'm not short" arguments, the door to the library _bang_ed open, returning her senses to her and saving her from possible mortification.

The dark-haired man (smirking as usual) crossed the room to where his subordinates were half-hidden by the countless books. He dismissed Hughes, narrowly avoiding his pictures, before turning to Ed. "Fullmetal," he said, and even though he did not move, Mustang knew that he had the boy's attention. "I need to tear you away from your research for a short while in order for all of us to meet with the headmaster."

Although he twitched at the word short, Edward kept his temper and instead focused on more important matters. "What," he asked, frowning, "do we need to meet with him about, Colonel? I thought we had all the details of this stay worked out already."

The smirk never left Mustang's face. He nodded, confirming the blond's beliefs. "Yes, but we need to make arrangements for you to continue practicing alchemy. After all, we can't have The _Great_ Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric lose his touch, now can we?"

Ed looked up from the books for the first time in the past hour. "What do you want me to do, Colonel? I can't exactly go on any missions inside the grounds."

If possible, the glint in Mustang's eye grew. "Oh, nothing much," he said casually. "All you have to do is head an alchemy club for the students."

For several tense seconds, Edward said nothing. When he finally spoke, it was in a small, strained voice. "Why, _exactly_," he asked, "would you have me do that? These children are already starting to research how to misuse alchemy. If I teach them, they would start to put it to use! These... These _wizards_ don't understand equivalence."

The colonel sobered, serious for once in his career. "That is exactly why you _need_ to teach them, Ed." At the boy's questioning gaze, he elaborated. "You need to _make_ them understand. You need to make certain that they know the consequences of misusing alchemy. What's to say that they won't attempt it without proper instruction? If you _teach_ them, at least you can help prevent it from happening."

The young alchemist sat in silence, considering his superior's words. As much as he hated to admit it, they did make a lot of sense. If he could stop even _one_ student from repeating his mistakes, wouldn't it all be worth it?

_What would Al do?_

He mentally admonished himself. _That's a stupid question. Al would want me to teach them. He would have loved it here; there are so many people our age, and he wouldn't be shunned for being trapped in that armor of his. He would want to share our knowledge with them..._

"It isn't really like a have a choice, is it?" He sighed. "All right, then. I'll... _teach_... these kids. But if any one of them tries to do something stupid, I'll have nothing to do with the idiot."

Mustang chuckled at Ed's aggressiveness. "Alright, Ed. But you know, you really shouldn't be calling them kids; after all, some of them are older than you, and even the _first_ years are taller than you..."

_"__WHO ARE YOU CALLING A BEAN THAT'S SO SMALL IT WOULD BE OVERLOOKED BY AN ANT?!_"

Mustang chucked. "I never said that, Ed," he said, but inwardly he beamed at the boy's responsiveness to his height. _After all_, he thought, _he may mope all the time, but it's still one more step on the road to recovery_.

Quickly, he shuffled the fuming alchemist out the door, Hawkeye in hot pursuit, before the librarian could spell his mouth shut.

---

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat confusedly with their fellow Gryffindors, the entire Great Hall filled with whispers. Dinner had yet to be sent up to the tables from the kitchen, Dumbledore had not appeared, and half of the Amestris entourage was suspiciously missing. After the meal had been delayed for half an hour, even the professors were looking anxious, and Hermione had needed to slap Ron away from gnawing on his cutlery three times. Finally, the doors to the Entrance Hall opened, and Dumbledore, Major Elric, Colonel Mustang, and Lieutenant Hawkeye all strode into the Hall, and all but the headmaster seated themselves at the Head Table.

Professor Dumbledore remained standing, blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, beaming at the half-starved students. "I apologize for the delay in your nightly meal," he began, "and I am afraid to say that I must detain you from your most delicious food for a few moments longer. As you all know, Major Elric, Major Armstrong, and Lieutenant Colonel Mustang are all alchemists.

"What you do _not_ know, however," he continued, his smile beginning to irk the majority of the school, "is that Major Elric has graciously accepted an offer to teach an Alchemy Club." Here, the Hall filled with excited murmurs, and Dumbledore needed to wait for them to become subdued before he could finish speaking. "Because we do not know how long Major Elric will be with us, this club will only be temporary. I am also sorry to say that only those students who have passed their O.W.L.s in Transfigurations, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts will be permitted to join this club because alchemy can be very dangerous if improperly attempted." He paused, giving the students a long, hard stare to emphasize the importance of his statement. "However, for those of you interested (and eligible), sign-up sheets will be posted in your house Common Rooms. The first meeting of the club will be held in the Great Hall this Thursday at seven o' clock sharp.

"Now, tuck in!"

Everyone in the Hall eagerly began eating the food which magically appeared before them, although much discussion abound between bites. After all, when would they ever again get the chance to learn the lost art of Alchemy? After hearing of Professor Snape's encounter with the subject, few did not wish to learn of it.

Ron paused briefly in the middle of eating his stuffed turkey. "It was a good idea to limit who could join, don't you reckon," he asked almost absentmindedly.

Hermione nodded. "What with all we've read about, I'm not one bit surprised. Although," she muttered pensively, "I wonder why Potions could be so important?"

"Probably because it's the closest thing to a science we've got," Harry concluded. "At least the club won't be very crowded because of the restrictions."

"Yeah. Ha!" Ron laughed. "We lucked out! Crabbe and Goyle won't be able to join!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "but Malfoy will. Let's just hope this doesn't turn out as badly as Dueling Club did."

Hermione scoffed. "Of course it won't," she exclaimed. "Professor Lockhart was a big phony! Major Elric is a _State Alchemist_. There's a bit of a difference, don't you think?"

Harry nodded, and the three immediately placed their names on top of the list to join after dinner.

---

While the many students tried to sleep through their anticipation, Edward Elric tirelessly planned his first lesson. He had already decided to not show them any transmutation circles but instead see the students' abilities at drawing _regular_ circles. He had no doubt that many of them would leave after the first meeting, all plans of ever attempting alchemy lost. He would make them understand beyond a shadow of a doubt that alchemy was _not_ an inborn ability like magic but took many years of practice and dedication to master. Most importantly, he would teach them the principle of equivalent exchange.

_In order to obtain, something of equal value must first be sacrificed. This is the law of equivalent exchange._

Chalk had already been gathered from the storerooms in the castle, and the castle walls would provide his blackboard. Of course, an even _slightly_ skilled alchemist could work with almost _any_ surface, but these children had no experience whatsoever. There would be no need for books, for anything they would need to know would be handled by Edward personally-- especially the laws concerning illegal transmutations. As long as they took notes, they would be fine.

Despite the fact that everything was ready, Ed could not help being nervous about his little club. The only person he had ever taught was Alphonse, and even then his younger brother had understood mostly everything without him. It would be different, being in command of a group of teenagers, some even older than he. It would be challenging, but it needed to be done; if the Fullmetal Alchemist lost his State certification, how would catch Scar?

Sighing, Edward massaged his temples and concentrated on his work.

---

AN: Ah! I've once again fallen into the deathtrap that is cannon... Forgive me! Please!

You have absolutely _no_ idea how bloody difficult that was for me to write. The format must have changed at _least_ five times before I finished. _Not to mention_ the fact that I kept giggling whenever I tried to write the Snape scene...

Anyway, the story will be reaching its climax very soon now. I should hopefully be able to work on it over my winter holidays, which begin next Saturday. Please drop a review on your way out. Until next time,

-Sugarpony


	8. A Helping Hand

AN: Kyaa! I did it again! Gomen nasai! I have been extremely preoccupied with Tennis no Ohjisama... It... totally... _rocks_. I offer you my sincerest apologies. At least you neednít have waited five months again!

If any of you are readers of _Equivalent Exchange_, all I have to say is this. The Alphonse/ Alphons scene is being. A. Pain. In. The. Mikta. _Hope_fully Iíll be hit with a brain wave once I re-watch CoS.

Iím sorry to announce to all of those who were hoping for a miracle that Aru really is dead and not coming back... Or is he? What can Sugarpony mean by this? You'll see...

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter. They belong to the great Hiromu Arakawa-sama and J. K. Rowling.

---

Rehabilitation

Chapter Eight

A Helping Hand

---

For the students in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Thursday evening could not come quickly enough. Although only a select few were able to join the Alchemy Club, everyone else in the castle was eager to hear about the lessons taught by the mysterious Fullmetal Alchemist. Edward himself, however, was dreading the occasion. He had spent all week locked in the Room of Requirement, hoping for escape from the many rumors which flew through the halls like the many owls that delivered the daily mail. He had prepared for the event to the best of his abilities, but he held little faith for the students' abilities. Truly, he doubted that a single one of them would be able to perform a simple transmutation and had decided to award anyone with this talent fifty house points; he had been given the same authority as the professors of the school for the duration of the lessons, and he was allowed to appeal for the expulsion of any student who attempted to break any of the most sacred laws of alchemy. At the moment, he was compiling a list of rules to be followed that evening under threat of detention and a serious loss of house points, the first of which was "Do not break any rules." Thus far, he had written more than thirty, and he paused to reread them.

"Do not question or contradict me."

"Do not disrespect me in any way."

"Do everything I say when I say it."

"Do not listen to Mustang."

Edward smirked as he thought of the Colonel's expression when he had read _that_ one. He had been standing directly behind him, a bored expression on his face, and he was reading the list over Ed's shoulder. It had been grating on his nerves, and he eventually dedicated an entire section to his superior to express his agitation.

"Insult Mustang at every opportunity."

"Make crude references to Mustang"s obsession with dogs."

"Repeatedly ask Mustang about his paperwork while in the presence of Hawkeye."

"Do not refer to Mustang as anything other than Useless in the Rain."

Of course, not all of the rules were for his entertainment. Most of them had justifiable reasons for their existence and were a testament to how much the boy was fearing the misuse of his teachings.

**"****Never** attempt Human Transmutation."

"**Never** attempt Animal Transmutation."

"**Never** attempt to transmute gold."

"**Never** attempt to transmute without fully understanding the equivalence in the equations."

It was an unanimous agreement, however, by all except Mustang, to include a very special rule.

**"****NEVER under ANY circumstance imply that I am SHORT**."

After reviewing the extensive list and mentally declaring it sufficient, Edward set down his pen-- He absolutely _refused_ to use quills and ink-- and relaxed in his cushioned chair. Despite all appearances, he was actually rather grateful to the fact that preparing for the Alchemy Club had been keeping him constantly busy; it left him little time to dwell on depressing thoughts. Now that he had finished, however, they all came rushing to him like flowing water released from a dam.

_Alphonse..._

The alchemist's face lost its critical, analyzing appearance as his focus shifted to his brother. Even though he had been searching the school's library at every available opportunity, Edward had been unable to find anything that would help him locate and capture Scar. He refused to kill the man, that much was definite-- Alphonse would hate him for it-- so poison was out of the question. While the books on Potions had been the most helpful, as it required absolutely no magical skill to brew a simple concoction, nothing short of a truth potion, Veritaserum, would help him find the Isvaran, and even that had its limitations; a person could not be truthful about something of which he did not know. A locator spell would be useful, but for that he would need the assistance of a wizard, and simply would not allow these _magicians_ to become involved in his personal affairs. That would not do at all.

He had been reluctant to inform even Mustang of his plans, but it had been a necessity. The boy had officially given up on the Philosopher's Stone, for he had no use for it now. He could survive with automail, perhaps better than he could without it. As such, there was no more obvious reason for him to stay in the military, as Winry had been quick to point out. Indeed, she had begged him to turn in his watch and return to Resembool to live with her and Pinako. When Mustang had asked him about his plans for the future and recommended resigning for his enlistment, Edward had reluctantly realized that he had needed to tell the man of the situation. He had also realized that the colonel would be of use to him, for he would be able to give him information of Scar's whereabouts. He was not blind, though, nor was he stupid; he knew that Mustang would keep information from him until there was no danger if the boy investigated it, but even so, he would be able to receive perhaps a tip off from someone who had seen the murderer and follow it.

Edward knew that Alphonse would not want him to chase Scar, but he did his best to ignore this fact. Catching the man would be the only way for him to find peace of mind, he had decided. Everyone around him had pounded into his brain the fact that he was not responsible for his brother's death, but that did not stop unwarranted guilt from creeping into his mind when he relaxed and tried to accept that fact that he would never again hear his brother's voice nor feel his comforting presence. It would be dangerous, but it needed to be done.

These thoughts churned through his brain for hours as he once again returned the library in hopes of finding aid for his quest until, at last, the hour of his debut as a teacher had arrived.

---

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood with their peers congregated in the Entrance Hall as they waited for the doors to the Great Hall to open. They had been the first Gryffindors to sign up for the alchemy lessons and had anticipated this day all week, imagining all sorts of things that might occur. When they had arrived early, however, they had been surprised the find the passage between the two rooms sealed shut with nary a crack or crevice. Even Hermione had been unable to break whatever spell-- Or was it alchemy?-- that had caused it.

Five other Gryffindors had greeted them enthusiastically after they had assessed the situation: Katie Bell, Chaser and last remaining member of Harry's original Quidditch team; Cormac McLaggen, a seventh year Harry had been unfortunate enough to meet on the Hogwarts Express; and three other seventh years they did not know. Nine Ravenclaws were also there, as were three Hufflepuffs and six Slytherins including, much to the trioís dismay, Draco Malfoy, who had immediately begun insulting his rival house. Fortunately, shortly after the blond's arrival, a bright blue light emanated from the doors as the (assumedly) magically swung open.

The lucky students hesitantly walked inside of the Great Hall only to pause and stare at their surroundings. Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye were standing guard at either of the two doors in the large room. The tables and benches all had been cleared away in favor of a small work table and a cardboard box. Although the ceiling was reflecting the evening sky as always, the walls and floor were now a dark shade of green and the consistency of the chalkboards in the classrooms. Bright white writing covered nearly every available space on the walls, while the floor was naked of any markings. A large diagram Harry recognized as the periodic table of elements was pictured on the far wall, and written above it were three simple sentences. "To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. One cannot receive without first giving something in return. This is the Law of Equivalent Exchange." Standing directly in front of the wall was Major Edward Elric, and the students' attention was torn away from the walls as he spoke.

"Welcome to Alchemy Club. To your left is a list of rules I expect you to follow both during and outside of club hours. I have been given the same privileges as any of your professors, and if you break a rule you will be harshly punished. These rules are in place for the safety of both you and the rest of the school." He paused, giving each and every one of them a piercing stare with his bright golden eyes. "Do I make myself clear?"

The students all gave their assent, and he continued.

"I don't expect any of you to be able to successfully use alchemy. You are all spoiled and unused to the harsh way of the world that it reflects. I do, however, expect each and every one of you to make a heartfelt attempt to understand it, because I want all of you to realize that your world of magic is a place full of fluff. Those without magic follow a completely different set of rules, and we are thoroughly punished if we try to break them. If you learn nothing else, you will learn appreciation for your magic and respect of those to whom you refer as 'Muggles.' "

Malfoy snorted. "Why the hell would I ever respect Muggles? If you ask me, everything you're saying is utter rubbish."

"Is that so?"

All eyes were drawn to the long-haired blond as he quietly walked forward to the boy. "Fifty points from Slytherin, Malfoy."

The other blond positively exploded. "What! That's ridiculous!"

"You broke rules one and two of this class." The heads swerved back and forth between the boys as if following a heated tennis rally. "Do not question or contradict me and do not disrespect me. If you feel my lessons are unworthy of your attention, leave. I don't need your bad-ass attitude, and I don't take shit from anybody."

Despite his earlier comments, Malfoy made no move to leave. It seemed that he was as eager as any to learn the mysterious, powerful art of alchemy. Instead, he clenched his fists and quietly seethed, anger and defiance in his countenance. Satisfied, Elric continued with his lecture.

"In order to understand alchemy, you must first forget everything you know about magic. If you attempt to mix the two it will have disastrous results. Alchemy is based on precise scientific principles, the most important of which is the Law of Equivalent Exchange; magic has no rhyme or reason to it, and although aspects of it may appear to be similar to alchemy, they don't even come close to it.

" 'To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. One cannot receive without first giving something in return. This is the Law of Equivalent Exchange.' " He paused, allowing this concept to be absorbed by their minds, before heading to the table of elements. "Even if you change the shape or appearance of an object, it must have the same materials as it did before the transmutation. You cannot begin with wood and end with steel. You cannot turn five kilograms of copper into ten kilograms of copper. You must follow the Law of the Conservation of Mass: 'Mass can be neither created nor destroyed.' " The alchemist gestured to the chart behind him. "In this table are the symbols and atomic structure of all known elements. They cannot be changed except with extreme skill."

At this point, Ron spoke hesitantly. "So then, Sir, the myth about alchemy being able to turn lead into gold isn't true?"

Edward examined the redhead before answering. "Not exactly. It _is_ possible to alter the structure of an element, but it is highly dangerous. Turning lead into gold would require a transmutation of a subatomic level which, if performed incorrectly, can lead to highly dangerous, explosive results. It is for this reason that transmuting gold is illegal."

A Ravenclaw then bravely raised another question. "There are restrictions on transmutations, then?"

The alchemist gave her an appreciative nod. "Alchemy has rules just like any other part of society. As I said, transmuting gold is highly illegal. Also banned are Animal Transmutation and Human Transmutation. Attempting any of these will land you in prison for the rest of your life, best case scenario. Worst case scenario, you die."

"You can use alchemy on living things?"

Edward gave a harsh glare to Ernie Macmillan before responding in harsh voice. "Yes, it is possible to transmute living creatures. Combining two or more animals is called the art of creating chimeras, or Animal Transmutation. It is a depraved form of alchemy, because once something living is transmuted, it cannot be returned to its original form."

Ernie looked abashed and a bit disturbed as he muttered a hasty "Sorry." McLaggen, on the other hand, raised another question.

"What about Human Transmutation? What's that?"

The short blond froze, and out of the corner of his eye Harry could see both Mustang and Hawkeye with a resolute look on their faces. The boy's reply was whispered, but no one had any trouble understanding him.

"Human Transmutation is the art of bringing the dead back to life. It is illegal because it doesn't work; there is almost no record of an alchemist who survived the transmutation, and what is created isn't human. I don't care what your reasons are; none of you is to ever even _consider_ performing a human transmutation, and you will never speak of it again after tonight. Before the topic is dead, does anyone have any more questions about it?"

Malfoy was the only one who dared to speak, for he had picked up on something important the boy's speech. "_Sir_," he began, a bit sarcastically, "you said that _almost_ no one has ever survived it. What happened to whoever _did_?"

Before he could blink Mustang had crossed the room and was standing directly behind him, giving him a firm gaze. "That is classified information. You have no need to know the details of the people foolish enough to attempt the impossible." Even though it was said with conviction, those listening close enough could detect a sorrow and sympathy in his voice, and an apologetic look crossed his face for a split second. It would have been missed if one had not been looking for it.

The other alchemist collected himself and resumed his lecture once again. "Alchemy is the process of changing the form or state of an object. There are three steps in this procedure: Analysis, Deconstruction, and Reconstruction. The first step, Analysis, is examining the materials you wish to transmute and understanding its physical and chemical make-up. The second step, Deconstruction, in breaking the bonds between the molecules in order to reform them. The final step, Reconstruction, it putting the molecules back together in a different order.

"Written on the walls around you are the equations used in several different transmutations, both simple and complex. The most important part of any transmutation is the transmutation circle. The transmutation circle condenses and combines all of these equations into one simple form. It allows a person to perform a transmutation without memorizing thousands of equations as long as the person is able to understand the basic theory behind them. If any part of the transmutation circle is flawed, the transmutation will be as well. It will either have no result or completely backfire, sometimes leaving harmful results.

"As such, you will not be attempting any transmutations until you can draw perfect transmutation circles. You will not begin by drawing the circles themselves but rather by drawing the components of the transmutation circles. They are made up of geometric figures and are sometimes accompanied by written formulas."

Edward paused, walking to the work table and picking up the small box on top of it. "I have here chalk. You will each attempt to draw a perfect circle, a perfect triangle, and a perfect square. These are the most common shapes found in transmutation circles. Once you have perfected these, you will begin to inscribe the triangles, squares, and small circles into circles in a precise symmetrical pattern."

He once more gave the entire room a piercing gaze. "If any of you believes this is mundane work and is not willing to practice this repeatedly or study scientific equations, leave now. I've already said that I will take no shit from you. I will not hesitate to have a single one of you banned from these classes if you do not take them seriously." When no one moved in the silence that followed, he set the box of chalk back on the work table. "Begin. I will first demonstrate what these perfect shapes look like."

He took a tiny piece of chalk from his pocket and drew on the front wall a perfect circle, triangle, and square with a practiced ease. He had finished in less than three seconds. He then turned expectedly to his his students, and they moved as one to begin the exercise.

It was quite possibly the simplest yet most difficult lesson any of them had participated in. Hands used to delicate quills were sloppy with the small, thick pieces of chalk and drew clumsy, lopsided shapes. The shapes became more distinct after a few minutes of repetition, yet it was clear that none of them were perfect, as Edward patrolled the room and pointed out glaring flaws. Not even Hermione had managed to complete a perfect figure when the alchemist dismissed them an hour later with the instruction to "Practice until they're perfect."

Before anyone left the room, however, the Ravenclaw from earlier spoke once more. "Excuse me, Sir," she said, stopping everyone else in their tracks, "but you can perform alchemy without a transmutation circle, isn't that right?" At his nod, she continued. "How is that possible? How can you transmute in a few scarce seconds when you need to focus on so many different equations and principles? What makes you so special?"

It seemed that Edward had been asked this question before, for he answered with no detectable hesitation. "I have been studying alchemy since I was six years old. I was made a State Alchemist at the age of twelve because of my ability to transmute without a circle. I am no different from you are; I just put in more effort and work harder. Class is dismissed."

Pondering this thought, the students left. Malfoy was sneering, but he was determined to show Edward that he was a Malfoy and as such superior to anyone else. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spoke about how the boy's feat could be possible on the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione was beaming.

"You see, boys," she said in her know-it-all tone, "if you work hard enough, anything is possible! You really should put more effort into your schoolwork, and then maybe you can pass with 'Outstanding's in everything!"

"If it's all the same to you, Hermione," Harry said, "I think we"ll stick to our regular study schedule."

---

Colonel Mustang spoke with Edward as they returned to the Room of Requirement. Professor Dumbledore had restored the Great Hall to its original form; he would once again change it into slate on Monday evening, the next time the Alchemy Club was to meet. "So, _Professor_ Elric," Mustang lightly jibed, "do you see any potential in your students?"

Edward remained silent for several moments before he responded. "In a few of them, maybe. Definitely more than I expected, but not a lot."

The colonel nodded. "So what are your plans now?"

"Same as they were when I started," the boy said. "If they can master a basic transmutation circle, they can attempt a simple transmutation. If someone actually manages a transmutation, I'll help that person to excel. It's the best I can do."

_It's what Al would do._ The words were not spoken, but they were present nonetheless. "If you need any assistance, all you have to do is ask."

"I know."

---

Friday morning dawned and the castle buzzed. Everyone was talking about the Alchemy Club even though most of the school was excluded from it. They talked about the lesson, the theory, and the thousands of equations that had been written on the walls of the Great Hall the previous evening. Edward and his guard stayed in the abandoned Astronomy Tower until lunch, after which the young alchemist led them outside to the lake. He liked to under the shade of a beech tree on the shore side and watch the water be gently blown by the wind. It was soothing to him, and it allowed him to momentarily forget his troubles and enjoy the beauty of nature.

Not long after he had settled, however, he was disturbed. Not far from where he sat stood a young girl, probably a second year, holding a large white cat. She was speaking with one of her friends, and at their feet were three small kittens.

"I just don"t know what to do!" the girl cried. Her friend looked sympathetic as she provided support. "My mum said that if I can't find homes for them, she'll send them to a shelter, but I've already asked everyone I know! I can't let her do that!"

Two of the kittens, each white with black spots, were rolling around on the ground. The third was small and grey, and it was watching them, tail twitching, as if wanting to play but too shy to do so.

The girl's friend spoke. "I'm sorry, Leanne. I've asked around, but I can't find anyone either. We found homes for three of them, though, right? Isn't that better than nothing?"

"I guess." The first girl sighed. "I just can't stand to see them go to a shelter..."

"I'll take one."

The two girls spun, having not noticed Edward walk to them. The girl with the cat looked at him hopefully. "Really? You mean it?"

Edward nodded. The girl smiled, handed the cat to her friend, and gave him the small grey kitten. "Thank you so much," she said. "Please take good care of him!"

"I will." Ed smiled at them reassuringly. "I'm just glad that I could help." The girl thanked him again, picked up the remaining two kittens, and walked away with her friend.

Lieutenant Hughes walked to stand behind the boy, Major Armstrong close at hand. "So you have a cat now, huh?"

"I guess so."

"What are you going to name him?"

Edward was silent for a moment before he replied.

"Alphonse."

---

AN: There it is! This is my best chapter yet, I believe, so I do hope you all enjoyed it and that it was worth the wait. Please let me know what you think. There was less that happened in this chapter than I had originally wanted, but it flows well, I believe. I especially love the end of the chapter, and I hope you all did, too. There are only two more chapters until the story is finished, and I'll try to get them post more quickly, but I won't rush it. Until next time,

-Sugarpony


	9. Conflict

AN: Thank you all for your wonderful comments and support. Sadly, it is true that I will only write one more chapter for this story (not including this one, of course). As of now, I have no plans for a sequel, but we'll see what happens. For now, I'm only going to focus on my final chapters.

As for why I referred to myself in the first person, it was freaking three o' clock in the morning. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am partially insane when I am sleep-deprived.

At this time I would like to apologize to fans of Ron. I love him, but his character is extremely difficult for me to write, so you won't be seeing much of him anymore if at all. Sorry!

Enjoy.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. They belong to the brilliant J. K. Rowling and Hiromu Arakawa-sensei. Macbeth was written by William Shakespeare.

---

Rehabilitation

Chapter Nine

Conflict

---

Edward absent-mindedly pet his kitten, Alphonse, as it lie on his lap, purring contentedly. It was a bit strange, having something so very small that depended upon him for its every need, but it was also very comforting. The little animal was able to give him a small bit of peace of mind, and it also gave him something healthy to work for. Indeed, Alphonse seemed to have a knack for rubbing against his owner's legs, pleading to be picked up and cuddled, at the exact moments that the boy began to spiral once more into the depths of a deep-seeded guilt for the death of his younger brother. He reminded Edward that he was honoring the memory of the cat's namesake, and as long as he continued to do this, even if everyone else had forgotten, Alphonse would still live. Despite this, however, the alchemist would be unable to truly come to terms with his loss until Scar had been caught.

At the moment, though, the destructive, vengeful man was tucked safely in the recesses of his mind, for he was pondering the mind-boggling existence that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He and the others from Amestris had been residents of the castle for three and a half weeks, and he had learned all he could about the so-called "magic" that was taught there. His first experiences with it had been less that enjoyable, and he had gleaned little information from them. As a man of science, Edward simply could not understand it. How could something that was able to break nearly every law of nature exist? How was it possible to completely ignore the law of equivalent exchange in such a radical manner? It was incomprehensible. He had tried to find the answer in the innumerable amount of books that the school's library housed, but he had learned nothing from his research. He had begun to believe that he would never find his answer.

Still, he waited and watched, observing the students and teachers alike, and slowly began to piece together a thesis. Nearly every inhabitant of the castle, both students and a few of the staff, was incredibly and unbelievably naïve. The select few who were not exuded an aura that was stifling; it was as if they had been forcibly welcomed into the real world of troubles and tragedies in such a harsh manner that they were now overly cautious, never letting down their guard, never fully trusting anyone or anything. It was overwhelmingly familiar to such a degree that Edward had been searching his brain for a connection and finding nothing for days on end until he had realized the truth. It was the same aura with which he and his brother had been met nearly everywhere they traveled on their quest for the Philosopher's Stone; it was the same aura that he had felt coming from the Isvaran refugees; it was the same aura the he himself had been afflicted with since his mother had died and even more so since that fateful night when he had seen the Gate.

But how was it possible for there to be no in-between? Even back home in Resembool, only young children were unaware of the harshness of the real world, but very few had been thrown into it like he and his brother had. It was a slow but inevitable process. Children would first gain an awareness from their parents, whether it be an overheard conversation or a worried presence. Once this was initialized they would continue to learn by paying closer attention, listening to the radio, taking notice of anything out of the ordinary. Eventually, the children would become adults, complete with a knowledge and understanding of what life really is. True, the same could be said of this new place, to an extent... but at the same time it was altogether different.

The most horrifying experience any of the students needed to deal with was a failing grade or a fight with a friend. Everyone was worried when the newspaper was delivered in the morning, and for good reason; from what Ed understood, this world was in the middle of a war. Still, though, once the precursory glance through the headlines was complete, the children continued on with their days as if nothing was wrong. He had a strong suspicion that none of them had ever had an experience with death or war before this recent development. Burglaries were rare, and any act of violence was practically nonexistent. They were living in a dreamland.

And suddenly he realized. No part of life is without equivalent exchange, not even magic. Perhaps this strange non-science did not come without sacrifice. The user is free to use his power for almost anything imaginable, but he loses something in return; he loses a piece of himself. For even though living unaware of danger and the evils of society may appear to be a blessing, harsh reality will eventually tear at one's soul and steal a piece of innocence. It is true that no one is innocent forever, but there is traditionally a slow process that permits one to cling to his desperate believes for as long a period of time as possible. Ignorance may be bliss, but Edward knew from experience that one's world can be shattered by the Truth. Magic creates a false sense of security for these people. It can heal wounds and cure illness, and it is powerful enough to keep crime to an unnoticeable minimum. But when one brick fall out of place, when something completely unexpected occurs, a person's faith in the world is lost. Something is lost that can never be returned.

Now that he knew of the price, Edward could honestly say that he would never trade his alchemy for magic, even if it could have saved his limbs and prevented Al's death. It could give a person his heart's desire, but it required a great self-sacrifice that one would never even realize had been given. And Edward despised this world of magic. He hated the fact that many unsuspecting children would one day be thrust face-first into terrifying reality. He hated everything that it was, everything that it symbolized, and he was anxious to leave. For the time being, however, he could only watch and wait.

Edward sighed, and he felt Alphonse begin to purr even more loudly as he snuggled deeper into the boy's lap in response. Currently, the two were neatly tucked away in the mezzanine of the library. The young alchemist had discovered this little room a week ago by pure coincidence as he was scanning the bookshelves in his perpetual research. It was small and circular with a low ceiling, and the walls were lined with books. In the center was a round table and a single chair, and there was only one entrance, suggesting that the hidden room was a personal study. Edward had been delighted at his discovery; after a heated conversation with Mustang, he had been allowed to stay inside alone while his escort stood guard at the door outside. He frowned, recalling that particular evening. It had been anything but pleasant. He had at first been denied, to which he responded by questioning their continual presence at the school and the need of an escort now that his limbs had been replaced. "We stay here until the fuhrer says otherwise," Mustang had said. "Besides, you're still not fully recovered." Thankfully, though, the man had sensed that his subordinate needed some time to himself, and the room had been deemed safe after a thorough investigation and an interview of both the headmaster and the librarian.

_Not fully recovered my ass,_ Edward thought. _I'm perfectly fine. Perfectly fine and perfectly bored. _Indeed, all of the Amestrians had grown accustomed to the same monotonous routine: Wake up. Eat breakfast. Wander the grounds. Eat lunch. Change guard. Research in library. Eat dinner. Change guard. Teach lesson. Research in library. Fall asleep in a book. Wake up. Fight with Mustang as he insinuates shortness. Get dragged into bed. It was tiring, doing the exact same thing every single day. Edward was a restless teenager, and he was used to traveling the country with his brother, never staying in the same place for more than a few days. He paused in his scratching of Alphonse's ears (the tiny kitten let out a pitiful mewl of protest) in order to stifle a yawn, and the stillness of the room was suddenly broken by the opening of the door hidden amongst the shelves.

"Oh." A girl no older than he with bushy brown hair stopped in the doorway. Edward could see Havoc and Hughes asleep on the floor behind her. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone else was in here." She turned to leave, but he stopped her with a smile.

"It's no problem," he told her-- Hermione, he thought her name was, as he recognized her from his Alchemy classes. "You can come in, if you like."

"Thank you," she said, and she closed the door and joined him at the table, conjuring another chair out of thin air with a wave of her wand. "There's just something comforting about being surrounded by books, don't you agree?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, there is," he said.

Without missing a beat she continued. "I've been wanting to speak with you, actually." Edward raised a curious eyebrow, and she blushed for reasons unknown to him. "About my alchemy, I mean. I understand the principles and everything perfectly, but I just can't seem to get it to work. Do you think I can get better?"

Undisputedly, Hermione was one of the best students in his class. As a Muggleborn-- the term for those with non magical parents, he had learned-- she was by far more knowledgeable and accepting of the scientific world than any others. She had been one of the last to complete a perfect circle, only managing to do it in the last to meetings, but she had come closer to an actual transmutation than those who had been attempting one for over a week. Edward told her this, and her blush deepened.

"What do you feel when you activate the transmutation circle?" he asked.

Hermione was somewhat confused. "Feel?" she questioned. "Well, I suppose a kind of- of a warmth, a stirring inside of me. What am I supposed to feel?"

The boy repeated the words he had spoken at his first lesson, the technicalities coming to him naturally. "When you activate a transmutation circle, you need to focus on breaking down and reconstructing your materials. Non living things can't move on their own, though, so you need to use your own energy in order to do this." Enthusiastic about the subject in which he was well versed, he began motioning wildly with his arms, trying to explain his point. "You need to take your energy and put it into the transmutation circle before continuing with the transmutation, or you won't get anywhere. Also , you need to be careful to not put too little or too much energy into the circle. Too little will only deconstruct your materials, and you'll end up with a pile of goop, while too much energy will cause the entire thing to explode in your face. Other than a flaw in the transmutation circle, that's the most common reason for a failed transmutation."

The girl frowned thoughtfully, though a confused look still remained on her countenance. "So I'm supposed to take my own energy and add it into the entire process, moving along the transmutation... But how do I do that?"

Edward paused, also frowning thoughtfully, searching his brain for a way to help he understand. After several moments passed as the witch grew less and less confident in herself, he finally spoke again. "What do you feel when you cast a spell?"

Comprehension dawned on her features, and she began rattling off words as easily as breathing. "I feel a bit of a draining of some sorts. That's why you get tired whenever you cast a lot of spells, or even just one really powerful one. So when I cast a spell--"

"--You put your own energy into it to get it started, and the magic does the rest. It's the same kind of thing with alchemy."

"So," Hermione continued excitedly, "so, if I focus like I do whenever I use magic, I should be able to feel my energy and move it into the transmutation circle, thereby giving myself a means to use in order to complete the transmutation! Oh, it's so simple now! Thank you, Sir!" The girl jumped out of her seat, giving the boy a quick hug before catching herself. Both teens were blushing as she hastily pulled away.

"Oh, I- erm- I'm so sorry, Sir, I- I didn't mean-"

"It's okay." Edward interrupted her stuttering apology, his face practically glowing the same color of his coat. "no harm done." There was an uncomfortable silence for the next few minutes as both recomposed themselves.

"So," Edward finally said, scratching his face (which was now a mere shade of light red), "what did you come here for, anyway?"

Hermione coughed, clearing her throat before answering. "Oh, no reason, really," she said. "The same as you, I suppose. I like to come her for some peace and quiet every now and then, just to think and relax. It's really such a cozy little place."

"Yeah," the boy agreed. "Yeah, it is."

Fortunately for the pair, their embarrassment was interrupted by an upset Alphonse, who jumped onto the table between the two and yelled loudly. He was very irritated that his owner had been neglecting him in favor of his alchemy discussion. The girl, obviously a cat lover, cooed in delight. "Oh, he's adorable," she cried, scratching under the kitten's chin and eliciting a contented purr from him. "Is he yours?"

Edward smiled gently, also reaching to stroke the small feline. "Yeah," he said. The two prodigies, one of magic, one of alchemy, sat together pampering the spoiled kitten, it's rumbling purr the only sound between them.

"My younger brother Alphonse," the alchemist suddenly murmured, interrupting the peaceful moment, "was always bringing all sorts of stray cats home and begging to let him keep them, ever since we were little kids. He'd come running kinda funny and then I'd hear a meow, and he would get all panicky. I'd tell him we couldn't keep it, and then he'd get offended and depressed and run off crying." His eyes grew a wistful glaze as he was enveloped in his fond memories. "But we could never keep it, and we could only give it some food and the best shelter we could find before moving on."

Hermione remained silent as the boy in front of her continued to pet his cat. It was the first time he had ever spoken about his brother. In fact, other than during lessons, this was the most that she had heard from him in the duration of his entire stay. Neither was certain how long it was that they quietly sat, enjoying one another's company. Finally, the young witch spoke. "What's his name?" she asked, motioning to the kitten stretched out on the table in a laughable position.

"Alphonse."

There was another long, uncomfortable silence. Hermione shifted in her seat as she contemplated the words that she wanted to say. "You know," she said, keeping her eyes focused solely on the cat, "I can't say that I know exactly what it is that you're going through, but I do know how it feels to lose someone close to you." Edward raised his head and stared at her, but she did not look up. "My grandmother did a couple of years ago. We were very close, she and I; most people go to their parents when they have a problem, but I always went to her. She'd come to visit, and if I was sad or upset about something, she would say 'Don't sit around moping all day, or you'll forget how to have fun!' Then she'd take me out for ice cream or to the museum, and sometimes even to the amusement park. She knew me better than anyone. When she passed away, I locked myself in my bedroom for an entire week before my mother talked some sense into me. She told me that Nana wouldn't want me to mope and that if I ever felt sad to remember all the happy time we had together. Talking about the past helps a lot, too. It's like we're doing it all over again. I still miss her, but I know that she's always with me. Because as long as I remember her, she'll still be alive in my heart.

"I know you must think me to be a hopeless romantic or a sentimental fool, and it's not my place to say anything, but it really is the truth. And," she paused, lifting her head and meeting his gaze with earnest faith, "I know that I don't know anything about your brother, but I'm sure that he would want you to be happy, too." Having finished her speech, Hermione began to blush, but she sat firm. "And besides," she added, "They're in Heaven now, and I'm sure that they're watching over us both."

Edward's face grew sour at her final words, and he bit out a scathing remark. "That's one person's opinion," he said. "When you're dead, you're dead. There's no afterlife, and nothing can ever come back."

The girl sat motionless for a moment, shocked, before pulling a cross form beneath her robes and beginning to play with it. "You're not a believer, then?" she asked.

"I'm agnostic," he replied. "I've seen and experienced too much of the Truth to believe in any kind of god that watches over and protects us. I suppose you are one, then?" he returned, waving at her cross.

Determined, she nodded. "Yes," she said. "It's what kept me going these past few years. Even some witches and wizards are Christians, you know. I've seen and experienced too much to _not_ be a believer." Hermione stood, and she began walking towards the door. Before leaving their shared sanctuary, however, she stopped and spoke once more. "Like I said, I don't know exactly what you're going through. But in case you're interested, you might talk to Harry Potter. He was in a similar situation this past summer, and I think you might have something to offer him, as well."

As Edward watched the girl step over his still slumbering guard and enter the passageway that led back to the main library, he thought over the words she had imparted to him. A lot of it made sense, and it made him think a lot more about Harry Potter. He knew all about him from his research of the wizarding world, and he had to admit that their lives drew certain parallels. Both boys had no parents, and both were currently being chased by an insane mass murderer. Still, Edward was skeptical that he could be helped by the young wizard.

As he pondered these thoughts, he promised himself to _never _let Winry know that he had been alone in an enclosed room with a girl for such a long period of time, let alone that he had been _hugged_ by her.

---

Colonel Roy Mustang entered Professor Albus Dumbledore's office, wondering what the headmaster wished to discuss. He had been given a summons by a passing student that afternoon requesting a meeting with him, and he had dutifully turned up several minutes in advance. Although Dumbledore could appear to be a harmless old fool, Mustang knew that behind the man's facade of eccentricity lie a dangerously sharpened mind. When he was speaking, it was best to listen. The wizard was sitting behind his desk, having anticipated the military man's early arrival. "Please," he greeted, "have a seat."

Mustang obligingly sat in a squishy armchair, politely refused any sweets before they could be offered to him, and kept at attention. "You wished to speak with me, Headmaster?"

"Now Roy," Dumbledore admonished, "I have repeatedly asked you to please call me Albus. We are friends, are we not?"

The man opposite of him grinned a bit. "I suppose so," he answered, "but old habits die hard. It's imperative that one treads lightly and shows the utmost respect in the military."

"Indeed, I suppose it is," the elder agreed, chuckling. "In that case," he continued, sobering his demeanor, "I believe that it is best if we discuss my reason for calling you here right away. You see, I must inform you of some information that has recently come to my attention. I believe it would not be prudent to keep you in the dark any longer, as it may endanger your subordinates.

"Several days ago, I was alerted that the wards around the edges of the Forbidden Forest had been breached, although not by any wizard. This is not uncommon, as some magical creatures who live in the forest will often come and go. However, the power of whatever had entered was startlingly high, and I vowed to keep a well-placed eye on any goings on inside of the forest, let the inhabitants of it or the castle be threatened. The forest is, of course, several miles deep, and as such, I did not raise any alarm, for it would take time for anything to reach the boarders.

"The very next day, the same thing occurred. Still, there was no immediate threat, and I felt best to merely observe from a distance for the time. However, shortly after these events, quite a disturbance was created. Trees have been felled, and many animals have been devoured by a mysterious predator, leaving only partially eaten remains. They have been steadily moving towards the castle, and I have placed barriers around the edges of the forest. I fear that something quite dangerous is approaching."

As he finished his explanation, Dumbledore stared over his spectacles directly into his associate's dark eyes. Mustang fought against a shiver as a sudden, unpleasant sensation traveled through his body. Then, he stood, saluted the headmaster, and bowed in thanks. "I appreciate you informing me of this situation. If you will excuse me, I really must be going now." He left the office and descended the spiral stone staircase leading to the corridors, an ominous feeling clawing at the back of his mind.

_Something wicked this way comes..._

---

Harry Potter stormed through the hallways, furious with his friend Hermione. She had rushed in to the Common Room, where he and Ron had been doing homework, and excitedly relayed to them her encounter with the mysterious Edward Elric. He was an enigma, and since the three had spent most of their time at Hogwarts solving different puzzles, they were naturally curious about him and eager to learn of anything new. He had been surprised and saddened to hear of Hermione's depression when her grandmother died, but it was quickly replaced with anger when she finished her story. To say that he had been vastly displeased when he found out that Hermione had hinted about what had happened to Sirius to the alchemist was a gross understatement.

"What makes you think that I'd want to talk about Sirius to a complete stranger?" he had yelled at her. "You've no right to tell him anything!"

The girl had been somewhat hurt, but she had stood firm and said to him, "I thought that maybe it would help you if you spoke with him about it, since I believe that his brother died in a similar way!" She had then run into the girls' dormitory in a huff, stomping on each stair.

Harry's current rage was interrupted, however, by Colin Creevy. The still-tiny fifth year was walking towards him, camera in tow, although he had yet to notice his idol's presence. Quickly, Harry ducked into a bathroom, not wanting to be attacked by his unofficial number one fan.

He stood at the taps for several minutes, waiting for the boy to pass, and he could feel his anger dissipating. He sighed, bringing a hand to tousle his already messy hair. Hermione was his friend, and she was only trying to help him. It wasn't possible for him to stay upset with her for long.

Once again, though, his thoughts were disturbed, this time by none other than Edward Elric himself, the object of their argument. The two made eye contact for a few seconds, and Harry made a sudden decision based on impulse alone as the other began to walk away.

"Sir!"

The alchemist stopped, and he turned to once again face Harry. He stood silently, one eyebrow quirked, and Harry took that as a sign to continue. He licked his lips, not really knowing what to say, and began to speak.

"Er... How did your brother die?" Harry mentally smacked himself. _Great going, Potter,_ he thought. _Wonderful show of sensitivity there. What a brilliant way to start a conversation!_

As expected, Major Elric did not appreciate his forwardness. "That's none of your damn business!" he snapped, glaring daggers into the young man before him.

Harry flinched, and as Elric began to stalk away from him, he called out again. "My godfather," he began, and he waited until he saw the boy stop before he finished his thought, "died back in June." Neither moved, and there was a long pause before either said anything more. Just as Elric began to head towards the door again, Harry continued. "It was my fault," he said, his words now rushing out of his mouth unchecked. "I was really stupid and fell into a trap, and he came to save me, and he was killed by a Death Eater."

The two adolescents stood uncomfortably in the company of one another, neither moving forward. Harry began to believe that he had made a mistake and the other was going to leave without returning his confidence, but he was proven wrong. Without tearing his gaze away from the door before him, Elric muttered his story in a low voice. "A mass murderer was trying to kill me," he said, "and my brother stepped in the way of his attack."

He then stepped in the direction of the exit for a third time, and he was nearly through the door when Harry's words gave him reason to pause. "It wasn't your fault," he said. "Neither of us were to blame, not really. I mean, Sirius chose to come after me even though he was supposed to stay inside, and I may not have known your brother, but it was his decision to take the attack, wasn't it? They both chose to--" Here, Harry needed to pause and clear his throat, for a lump of emotion had been steadily building-- "to sacrifice themselves in order to protect us, right? I know that I wouldn't have been able to stop Sirius if I tried, and it would probably have been the same for you."

He finished his speech, and a blush began to creep its way over his face. "I-- I just wanted to tell you that," he said, turning away from the other even though he had his back turned. He did not move again until he had heard the door open and close and footsteps fading away as the entourage disappeared down the corridor.

_Damn Hermione,_ he thought, _and her stupid Know-It-All complex. Why does she always have to be right?_

---

Edward's thoughts were conflicting with one another that evening, thoroughly distracting his mind from his assigned task of educating his students in the ways of Alchemy. Luckily, he was highly skilled in his subject, as was proven by his position as a State Alchemist, and he needed little concentration in order to perform well. Unfortunately, two of his current students were the cause of the two clashing concepts. One of which, in fact, had completed her task of freezing water on the floor and was currently badgering him for his critique. She was interrupted, however, by the doors of the Great Hall being slammed open.

Professor Severus Snape glided eerily into the room with no regard to the lesson taking place, distaste and annoyance written on his face. They was another emotion, though, masked beneath the others, which both Edward and Colonel Mustang easily found: urgency. The potions master was shaken, and something was desperately wrong. "The headmaster needs to speak with you immediately, Mustang. He's waiting for you in his office."

The blue uniform clad officers exchanged a glance, and Mustang responded with a practiced calm. "I'll be right there. You'll need to stay here and guard Major Elric until I return."

The professor was quick to protest. "Impossible. I myself have a potion to which needs attending lest a dangerous reaction occurs. I have informed Second Lieutenant Havoc and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes of the situation by way of the floo, and they are on their way as we speak. Elric will be fine on his own until they arrive. You must be on your way now."

Concern etched into Mustang's cool features, but it was quickly overridden by a sobered understanding. He nodded, and the two men left to venture to separate parts of the castle, Mustang giving Edward a look that clearly said "Be on your guard."

The next hour passed with relative ease. Mustang had yet to return, and Havoc and Hughes had never arrived. Edward snorted at this thought. _They probably got lost again. I wonder how many days it will take for them to turn up again this time._ The evening was drawing to a close, and Edward was preparing to send the students to bed. He ordered them to clean up and return their materials, and the last bit of chalk had only just been replaced when the doors burst open once again.

This time, however, it was not a professor who entered, nor was it any part of Edward's guard.

It was a walking suit of armor, echoing footsteps betraying its emptiness.

Edward's heart skipped a beat.

"Big brother!" the armor cried as it ran across the floor to the small boy. Its voice was inexplicably young for such a large suit of armor.

Edward's shocked expression quickly turned into a scowl, and he growled at his alleged younger brother. "You _bastard_!"

The armor froze, and its voice almost seemed to be weeping. "Brother? What's wrong? What did I do?"

The other's scowl deepened, and he began to charge at the armor, clapping his hands and transmuting his automail arm into his trademark short blade. "Don't you _ever_," he snarled, "take his form!" He swung recklessly at the metal, and the armor rapidly jumped backwards. Suddenly, it appeared to shift, almost like a transmutation. The metal disappeared to be replaced by a small body. The form had a sleek, slightly feminine shape to it, and it was difficult to determine its gender. Long, dark hair fell across its back in stiff spikes. The mouth curved upwards in a vicious smile, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth. It spoke in a slightly guttural, cocky tone, and Edward grew more infuriated with each word.

"Well, Fullmetal Pip-squeak," it said, "I didn't expect you to do that. You should be ashamed of yourself, attacking your brother like that!"

"You're not my brother," Edward retorted, his voice biting, "you damned homunculus!" He began to to charge once more, and the creature's grin grew while the onlookers merely stood confused. "Damn you, Envy!"

---

AN: Oo! Cliffhanger! Heheh... Please don't kill me. No authoress means no final chapter! So, what did you all think? Did anyone see this coming? Honestly, I feel as if I wrote the same thing at least five different ways in every scene but the last.

The final chapter should be posted much sooner than this one was, because not only has it been planned out since before I began writing this story (although I may end up changing it completely), but I graduated high school this afternoon, which means that I will have plenty of free time! Go me!

Now you've read, so please review. Happy authors make for happy endings!

-Sugarpony


	10. The End of a Beginning

AN: After writing many chapters for many stories, I have come to the realization that the most difficult part or writing _any_thing is beginning. Whether it be a new story, a new chapter, or even a new scene, starting to write down your ideas is extremely hard. I always have doubts that I'll be able to find the right words to express what I see in my head, but once I overcome my doubts and write a sentence or two, the rest simply flows. Many times I spend weeks trying to think of ways to begin and then, once I start, write for hours on end. As with any part of life, the hardest part is overcoming your fears. That being said, don't be afraid to write your own stories.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. They belong to the brilliant J. K. Rowling and Hiromu Arakawa-sensei.

* * *

Rehabilitation

Chapter Ten

The End of a Beginning

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang had been on his way to the Headmaster's office when he had run into an enormous problem. A wall to his left suddenly exploded a few feet behind him, and he pivoted mid step to be greeted with the sight of none other than the mass murderer Scar advancing upon him. Quickly, he snapped his fingers, guiding a stream of flame toward the Ishvaran who in return dodged to the side of the it and continued his assault. Mustang snapped again, and again his enemy ducked, and soon the two of them were creating an intricate dance, the bronze-skinned man weaving between the graceful rivers of dazzling fire.

Growing tired of this continuous exchange, Scar deftly dodged another flame before grabbing a suit of armor and hurling it at the military man. The colonel quickly redirected the trajectory for his next snap toward the flying metal. In the ensuing explosion of smoke and flying shrapnel, Mustang was forced to cover his face and did not see the other man as he ran through the debris with his right arm extended until his was too near to fire another flame. Hastily, he jumped backwards, but he was not fast enough to dodge the attack.

Luckily, the sound of a gunshot fired through the corridor, and Scar ducked to the side once again. Mustang spared a glance behind him to see First Lieutenant Hawkeye dashing down the hallway to stand beside him, gun held steadily before her trained upon the killer. Scar, upon Hawkeye's arrival, placed his hand on the wall next to him, destroyed it with his alchemy, and hurried through it, the others following in pursuit.

Hawkeye fired five more shots at him, all of which he dodged or blocked with something lying around, before Mustang sent cover for her at the criminal as she reloaded her revolver. She was finished in a matter of seconds, and she took careful aim as the three continued their chase through the school. Thankfully, it was nearing curfew, and very few students were wandering around the castle. Those who were unfortunate enough to be lingering in the hallways or investigating the noise quickly ducked into an open room and slammed the door for cover.

Suddenly, Scar turned where he stood and placed his hand to the ground in front of him. The stone floor began to rupture, a large crack speeding toward the two soldiers, before it exploded beneath Mustang and Hawkeye's feet. The colonel hastily grabbed the edge of the hole that appeared, and he wrapped his hand around his first lieutenant's wrist as she fell behind him. The duo dangled there, neither unable to move, a good twenty feet between them and the lower floor.

Scar calmly walked around the broken stones and approached his adversaries. He squatted to address the black-haired man before him. "I had not planned on meeting you this day, Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist," he began. "However," he continued, "it seems that fate has planned for me to send your soul to the next world. May Ishvalla have mercy on you." He reached out his hand to destroy the state alchemist as he had many before him, but Mustang merely smirked and released his hold on the floor above him. He and Hawkeye feel to the ground, rolled upon impact, and dashed down the corridor.

"Colonel," the woman shouted as they rounded a corner, neither needing to glance backwards in order to know that the Ishvaran was pursuing them, "forgive my insubordination, but that was foolhardy, idiotic, and very well may have gotten us killed!"

Mustang smirked mischievously as he replied to her. "You can yell at me later, Hawkeye - in fact, I encourage it; you look absolutely ravishing when angered - but for now, I suggest you save your breath while we run!"

Hawkeye sent a withered look to him.

The two turned another corner and ducked into an empty room, pausing to catch their breaths. After several moments, when they could both breathe normally again, they stood still and silently, listening intently for any sign of the murderer walking through the hallway. Shortly after they could hear him closing in on their location. He tried to both open and destroy the door in turn, but neither attempt succeeded.

"It must be the castle's magic," Mustang said, relief spreading through his body.

Hawkeye relaxed for a moment, collapsing in a nearby chair. "We've come to the Room of Requirement, Sir."

The colonel leaned against the back of the chair, tensing again. "Unfortunately," he said, "now we're trapped in here with no way of warning Fullmetal." He frowned. "I have yet to hear Scar leave, so he must be standing outside trying to find a way in. Hopefully that should keep him occupied for a while.

"So for the time being," he continued, grinning slyly and massaging the shoulders of the lady in the chair before him, "why don't we _occupy our_selves?"

"Sir, if you don't remove you hands in five seconds, I will have to shoot you."

"Understood."

The following silence lasted for nearly thirty minutes, but it was finally broken by voices coming from outside. Mustang and Hawkeye were immediately on their guard, and after a short scuffle, the door was flung wide open.

Professor Dumbledore crossed to where Mustang and Hawkeye were standing as Professor McGonagall and Flitwick tightly bound the Stunned murderer in ropes conjured from their wands. "I apologize for our late arrival," he said, "but I do believe that we have pressing matters to deal with in the Great Hall. There is more than one intruder in the school tonight."

Mustang's eyes widened and the hardened, his determination becoming resolute once more. He signaled Hawkeye, and they, Dumbledore, and McGonagall raced to the main floor.

* * *

Edward charged the shape shifter and swiped furiously at him with his blade, but the nimble homunculi merely dodged out of the way. He moved to attack again, but he was stopped as a long, thin, sharp spike embedded itself into his left shoulder and effectively pinned him to the wall. A deep, voluptuous voice was heard from the doorway. "Well, well, well," it said, "what do we have here? It seems as though Fullmetal still has his claws."

Two more figures entered the Great Hall. One was a tall, slender woman with a long, low-cut black dress and large curves with long, wavy black hair, and the other was a short, stout man as round as one of Trelawney's crystal balls. The woman's hand right arm was extended, and her pointer fingernail was elongated to an impossible length and connected to both Edward's left shoulder and the wall behind him. She was the one who had spoken.

The pudgy little man beside her tugged on her dress, one finger in his mouth. "Lust," he said in a hoarse voice, pointing to the children, "can I eat them?"

Lust, as she was called, patted his head with her free hand. "No no, Gluttony," she responded, "not until he does what we want him to." She then paused, a wide, manic grin covering her face. "But there are plenty of hostages here," she continued, and the students shivered at her cruel tone and callous words. "Maybe you can have a little snack later."

The students anxiously backed away from the entrance, stunned and confused by the turn of events. They did not know whether to stand and watch or run and hide; even if they wanted to assist their teacher, they could not. Wands had been forbidden in their Alchemy lessons since the very first session. When Elric had found a wand on one of the students the lesson after, he had viscously snapped it in two. No one had risked bringing a wand afterwards, and as none of them knew Muggle fighting or was skilled enough at alchemy to be of any help, they were all defenseless.

Edward winced and groaned as Lust abruptly twisted the nail in his flesh. He raised his hands, but before he was able to bring them together, Envy transformed his hand into a sharp spike and cut off his automail arm. "We can't have you using that annoying alchemy to get away from us, now can we?" he sneered, a wicked grin on his face.

Edward growled. "What the hell are you damned Homunculi doing here?"

Lust sighed in feigned disappointment. "Now Edward, really," she said, "I thought we left a bigger impression on you than that! We still need you to create a Philosopher's Stone for us."

"Oh, yeah?" the boy asked, spite evident in his voice. "Well forgive me for not jumping for joy, but there's no way in hell I'm gonna make you a Philosopher's Stone!"

Envy hovered over him, grabbing the blond's head and slamming it into the wall behind him. "You will if you know what's good for you, Pip-squeak!"

"_Pip-squeak!_ Why I oughtta -"

"Now really, Envy," Lust interrupted, her tone slightly condescending, "there's no need to get violent."

The alchemist spat in the face of the creature before him, head still reeling from the sudden blow. "You're fucking crazy!"

Envy growled, preparing to beat Edward half to death, but his comrade stopped him before he could attack.

"Envy!" Lust's harsh voice cut across the room. "We need him _alive_, you imbecile!"

"But that doesn't mean I can't cause him _extreme pain_." (1)

During this exchange Edward surreptitiously withdrew a small piece of chalk from him pocket and constructed a tiny transmutation circle on the castle wall behind him. Before they could move, the three homunculi were trapped in a stone cage. Lust sighed, shaking her head. She released her hold on the boy and used her claws to slice through the bars of the cage, utterly destroying it. "Now really, Fullmetal," she chided, "you didn't actually expect that to work, did you?"

He was spared having to answer, however, because at that moment a flood of flames burst through the open doorway. The ensuing explosion caused Edward to be blown back against the wall, where his head was cracked against the rough stone. He was barely able to see three shadowy figures stride into the Great Hall toward the charred bodies of the Homunculi as he drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

The students rushed forward as Colonel Mustang and Professor Dumbledore hurried to where Major Elric was lying on the floor. Hermione fought her was through the crowd, Harry and Ron following behind her, eager to see if he was badly injured. The three creatures that had intruded into the castle had somehow regenerated their bodies after the fire had died, but they had fled after being heavily assaulted by the combined force of the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. Elric, however, had yet to rise from where he had been flung by their forceful entry.

The back of his head was badly bleeding, as was the puncture wound in his left shoulder. Professor McGonagall hurriedly muttered a spell, and he was lifted into the air. Together, she, Colonel Mustang, and First Lieutenant Hawkeye raced out of the room, presumably headed for the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and turned to address the students gathered around him. "There is no more danger inside of the Hogwarts Grounds," he said. "Major Elric will be fine with the aid of Madame Pomfrey. Now, please return to your Common Rooms, as it is past curfew." He gestured to the open doors, and they all slowly filed out of the Hall, still stunned by the recent events.

As the seven Gryffindors (McLaggen had been forbidden from the lessons when Elric mistook his circle for a crude drawing) parted ways with the members of the other Houses, Harry, Ron, and Hermione lagged behind their house mates in order to discuss what had happened.

"Oh, I do hope he'll be all right," Hermione worried, wringing her hands together.

Harry attempted to ease her fears. "He'll be fine," he said. "Madame Pomfrey's patched me up more times than I can count; a couple flicks of the wand and a few blood replenishing potions, and he'll be out of there good as new.

"What I want to know," he continued, "is what that was all about back there."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "What the hell were those- those _things_?" He shuddered, remembering how they had talked about eating the students in the Hall. "Creepy."

Hermione, as usual, had the answer to his question. "Major Elric called them Homunculi," she said, "but I haven't a clue what a Homunculus _is_!"

"And did they do those freaky tricks without a wand?" Ron asked. "It wasn't alchemy, was it?"

The girl shook her head. "No," she said. "It couldn't have been. What they did broke all the rules of Equivalent Exchange."

Harry said nothing for a moment, pondering all of the new mysteries that had been created in such a short amount of time. Then, he turned to his two companions and spoke slowly and deliberately. "I think," he said, "we need to get out my dad's cloak again."

Ron looked as if he agreed with Harry, but Hermione put her foot down against it. "No, Harry! Absolutely not! We can't spy on the military!"

"Well then," Harry huffed, a bit annoyed with her even though he knew that she was right, "what do you suggest?"

At first she said nothing, but then the witch responded. "We'll just have to wait until we can talk to Major Elric ourselves. Or maybe Professor Dumbledore will explain things for us. Either way, we are most certainly _not_ doing any illegal detective work this time."

The rest of the trip to the Common Room was spent in silence as the two wizards brooded.

* * *

_Edward groaned, putting a hand to his head, which was still throbbing with pain. A moment later, however, he jerked it away and gazed down at his limbs. His right arm was flesh again, and as he slowly closed and opened his hand, he could feel the cool skin of his palm against his fingers. Quickly, he pulled up the left leg of his pants to reveal his leg whole, as if the cursed Human Transmutation had never taken place._

"_How," he whispered, his voice full of confusion, "did this happen? Is this a dream?"_

"_Yes and no." A soft, familiar voice echoed around him, and he snapped his head up and turned around to be greeted with a sight which stole away his breath, leaving him stunned._

_Standing in front of him was his younger brother, completely whole in his still ten year old body._

"_Alphonse?" Edward hesitantly edged toward his brother, unsure if this was another one of Envy's tricks._

_Alphonse smiled, and Edward knew before he could say anything. "It's me, Brother."_

_The older blond raced forward and gathered his sibling into a tight hug, resisting the urge to sob uncontrollably. "If this is a dream," he murmured, "please don't let me wake up!"_

_The two boys stood together, embraced, for an indeterminable amount of time. At last, Edward pulled away, and he looked at their surroundings. They were standing in the middle of what seemed to be nothing more than a white abyss with seemingly no beginning and no end. It was completely empty save for the brothers. "What is this place?" he asked._

"_This is the threshold between life and death."_

_Edward once again jerked his head, staring at his brother. "This... What?"_

_Alphonse smiled again, a bit sadly this time. "The threshold between life and death," he repeated. "In reality, you're safe in a bed in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. But because you came so close to death from the loss of blood and the wounds on your head, I was able to meet with you here."_

_They stood in silence together, neither wanting to say what must be said, until Edward spoke. "So," he said, "you're dead. I knew you must be, we both know that nothing can bring the dead back to life, but I had hoped..." He drifted off, defeated, and they once again elapsed into silence._

"_Anyway," Edward finally said, growing tired of the depressing atmosphere, "you said that this both is and isn't a dream?"_

_Alphonse nodded. "Like I said, in reality, you're safe in bed. Like your mind travels to a different place when you dream, your soul has traveled here. And for me, of course, this is the same as when you and Colonel Mustang argue. And time passes differently here, too, also like a dream, but believe me when I say that this is entirely real."_

"_Good," Edward said, his voice becoming slightly higher pitched as his throat tightened, "because I need to- to tell you something, Al. I- I'm so sorry!" He clenched his fists and bowed his head, too ashamed to look in the face of his younger brother. "It- It's my fault your dead! I'm sorry for everything!" Tears welled up in his eyes, and he sniffled a bit as he lost control of his emotions._

_He stood there hating himself, waiting for judgment to be passed, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He raised his head, and he saw Alphonse still smiling kindly at him. "Oh, Ed," he said, a little amusement in his tone, "you're so stubborn." At Edward's questioning gaze, he elaborated. "You always take responsibility for every little thing that happens. It's not your fault that I died; I knew what might happen, and I made my own choice. I don't blame you, Brother, and I could never hate you._

"_The only thing you need to apologize for," he continued, "is acting like such an idiot and not taking care of yourself. I don't want to see you again for a long, long time."_

_Edward stared for a few moments before smiling sadly. "You're right," he agreed, sheepishly putting a hand to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Al. I guess I have been acting kind of stupid lately, huh?"_

_Alphonse chuckled, and he gathered his brother into a hug. "One more thing," he added, and he pulled away to face Edward. "Tell Winry you like her already, okay?"_

* * *

The first thing he noticed was that it was dark. Where moments ago he had been surrounded by a giant white abyss, he was now plunged into an impenetrable darkness. The next thing he noticed was the sound of hushed voices bouncing around him.

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?"

"I've already told you, head wounds are very finicky. If he is awakened before his body is ready, it could put an enormous strain on his brain, causing the rest of his body to malfunction or even begin to break down."

He was lying on a soft bed beneath warm covers. There must have been an open window nearby, because a light breeze was gently blowing across his face.

"Sir, I really wish you would rest. He isn't going to wake up any sooner simply because you're hovering over him."

"I'm fine, Lieutenant Hawkeye. I'm not the one who needs your concern."

He opened his eyes and blinked blearily, greeted by the sight of a white ceiling. Flexing his muscles, he realized that his right arm was still missing from when it was severed by Envy. He automail leg clinked slightly, alerting the others in the room to his presence.

"Edward!" The first one to reach his side was Colonel Mustang, whose face was for once completely relaxed in relief. He was quickly shove aside, however, by the resident nurse, Madame Pomfrey.

"Don't move," she growled, and she flicked her wand and began to mutter. This continued in a similar manner for several minutes until, at last, she crossed the room to a cabinet, pulled out a bottle and poured a measure of the potion inside into a glass, and thrust it into his hand. Edward blinked, and she said to him, "Drink."

The boy sniffed the concoction cautiously, wincing at the putrid smell. He nearly refused the nurse's orders, but one glance at her face was enough to convince him otherwise. After he had downed the horrible potion, Pomfrey left the three military personnel alone with strict instructions to "let him rest."

Edward looked around at the room to discover that no other patients were currently in the Hospital Wing. At his questioning expression, Mustang explained. "You've been given a private ward so that we can discuss military matters while Pomfrey still has you confined to a bed."

The blond nodded, and then he remembered exactly why he was in the Hospital Wing in the first place. He jumped out of bed, panicking at what had happened. "The Homunculi! What happened to them? Did anyone get hurt? Are they still here?"

Mustang shoved him back into bed with no answer, saying, "Stay in bed or that insane nurse will have my head." He then continued, "Nobody was hurt. The Homunculi left shortly after we arrived in the Great Hall, and they haven't been spotted on the grounds since."

"Damned cowards," Edward growled.

"Also," Mustang said, "earlier that evening, Scar was found in the castle."

Edward shot out of bed once more, infuriated by this information. "What?" he shouted, but he was, again, shoved into the bed before he could say any more.

"He was captured," Mustang continued, "but unfortunately escaped three days ago. He also has not been seen on the grounds since."

"Three days?" Edward asked. "What- How long have I been here?"

First Lieutenant Hawkeye was the one to answer this question. "You've been unconscious for over a week, Sir," she said. "It's the third of October."

The young alchemist collapsed onto his pillows, tired of all the surprises he had so far received. "Of course it is," he said, defeated. "So, what else did I miss?"

"We had to make up a cover story for the Homunculi," the colonel said. "The students have been told that they're a terrorist group with a magic unique to Amestris, and the Führer has ordered us back home, because the safety of the castle has been compromised. We'll be leaving after dinner this evening."

Before any more could be said, Madame Pomfrey bustled into the room. "All right, that's enough," she said, pushing the adults toward the door. "You've had plenty of time to talk, but now I demand that you let him rest! It is early in the morning and he should be sleeping!" They said a hasty goodbye, and they were gone, not wishing to face the wrath of the nurse.

Edward sighed and leaned further back into his pillows. _So I've been asleep for a week?_ he thought. _Damn._ He thought back to what he had experienced during that week, even though it had seemed much shorter to him. _Did I dream all of that? Or was it all actually real?_ Either way, what had happened had caused a change in him. Whether or not it had simply been his imagination craving for forgiveness, he now knew that what everyone had been telling him all along had been right. Alphonse's death was not his fault. It was a regrettable occurrence, yes, but Alphonse had made his own decision. Edward would be disgracing his memory if he thought otherwise.

_And maybe he was right about something else, too._ He blushed as he thought about his brother's final words to him and rolled over to fall asleep once more.

* * *

Some time around noon Edward had some unexpected visitors. Madame Pomfrey had already brought him his lunch and returned to the public ward, and he was heartily eating the enjoyable meal (although avoiding the milk like the plague) when he heard a swish of robes. More quickly than he could blink, three familiar students appeared at his bedside out of thin air. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley had apparently somehow come into the possession of an Invisibility Cloak.

No sooner than the cloak was thrown aside did Hermione rush forward and envelope the alchemist into an enormous bear hug. Harry chuckled, Ron's mouth fell open and ears turned red, and Edward froze in shock. Several moments later, Harry gave a suttle cough, and Hermione pulled away. Both she and Edward were blushing brighter than Hagrid when he had too much to drink.

"So," Edward said when he had regained his composure, "what are you doing here? I assumed that this ward was off limits to students."

"It is," Harry explained, "that's we had to use the Invisibility Cloak."

"We heard that you were awake and wanted to see if you were all right," Hermione continued. The major quirked a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh, really," he drawled. "And it would have absolutely nothing to do with the ones who put me here in the first place would it?"

The witch began to fidget, and her two friends blushed. Edward laughed at their discomfort. "I can tell you now, most of the information is classified. But ask away, and I'll let you know what I can."

The three relaxed a bit, sighing with relief that they were not going to be turned in to Madame Pomfrey. The boys looked to Hermione, and Ron elbowed her in the side. She threw a glare at him before clearing her throat.

"Well," she said nervously, her voice shaking a bit, "we wanted to know why they were after you."

The alchemist answered with a prompt, "That's classified."

Hermione gave the boys a triumphant smirk, as if she had known what he would say before she had asked the question.

Harry, however, far from being discouraged, continued the inquiry. "What did they want with the Philosopher's Stone?"

Edward tensed. "How do you know about the Philosopher's stone?" he asked, his voice ringing with a dangerous edge.

"Read about it in a book. Can you tell us or not?"

The blond boy sat still for a while, and the students began to believe he was not going to answer. As they were preparing to leave, though, he spoke slowly, deliberately. "Many people in my country believe that the Philosopher's Stone is nothing more than a myth.

"Some, however," he continued, "spend their entire lives searching for it for various reasons. A few have noble reasons, such as using it to heal the sick or injured. Most of them, though, have something much more unsavory in mind.

"They want to use the Stone for personal gain by creating gold or bribing others. Some want to use it to perform Forbidden Alchemy, bypassing all of the natural laws.

"And some," he said, his voice now barely more than a whisper, "want to use it as a weapon."

The room was still. No one move, no one dared to do little more than breathe. An ominous pall settled over the students as they contemplated Edward's words. Finally, the silence was broken.

"So," Hermione began, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "So," she said, slightly stronger this time, "they thought that you would be able to create a Philosopher's Stone because you're such a talented alchemist?"

"Yes," Edward said.

Harry continued where his friend had left off. "And can you?"

The boy in the bed looked the wizard directly in the eye before giving a resounding, "No."

"Bloody hell."

The three turned to Ron, who had made the blunt statement. Hermione gave him a withering stare and said, "How eloquent. Once again, I am amazed at you powers of observation."

The tall boy's ears turned red, and he puffed up himself, insulted. Harry laughed slightly, and the tension was broken.

"Anyway," Hermione said as the boys calmed themselves, "we're really glad that you're all right."

Edward smiled at her, and something sparkled in his eyes that they had never seen before. "I'm better than I've been in a while, Hermione."

Ron looked on cluelessly, but Harry and Hermione shared a pleased expression.

* * *

That evening, the house-elves cooked an enormous feast in honor of their guests, filled with foods native to Amestris. Edward had been released from the Hospital Wing by a reluctant Madame Pomfrey after being forced to choke down a glass of milk, and he was currently gorging himself upon his favorite foods. Eventually, though, the feast ended, the last of the desserts disappeared, and the dishes were cleared away.

Professor Dumbledore stood to address the Hall. "As you know," he began, "the time has come for our most esteemed guests to leave the grounds of Hogwarts. They will be returning to their homes and to their duties.

"Before they leave, however, let us thank them for their presence here and all they have taught us - not only about their knowledge, bu also about ourselves." He began to clap, quickly followed by the rest of the staff and eventually all of the students, including several Slytherins. Even Professor Snape joined in, though it was possible that he only did so because he was seated next to Edward and did not wish to once again be encased in stone.

Once the applause had died down, Colonel Mustang stood and turned to the headmaster. "Thank you, Albus," he said, shaking his hand, "for all that you have done for us." He then saluted the man, as did the rest of the visiting military.

Finally, Mustang, Hawkeye, Armstrong, Hughes, Havoc, and Edward all filed out of the Great Hall and outside of the castle, where a portkey was awaiting to return them to Eastern Headquarters.

"I don't know about you," Hughes said, not sparing a glance backwards, "but I'm glad to be out of that place."

"Hear hear!" Havoc agreed.

Edward sighed. "Winry's going to kill me," he declared. "It hasn't even been a month and I've already wrecked her automail."

"Fear not, Edward Elric," Armstrong said, flexing his muscles, "for I shall protect you from the wrath of her diabolical wrench!"

Mustang smirk, and even Hawkeye could not resist the temptation of a few small chuckles. "It's time to go home now, boys," she said.

Edward smiled gently. "Yeah," he said, "home." And even though he knew that nothing could ever be the same as it had been, he knew that it could be good.

And that was enough.

And safely tucked inside his pocket was a watch with an inscription inside of it that now meant more than it ever had.

_Don't forget._

_3. Oct. 10._

_Fin._

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Story Notes:

(1) This is not my quote. I forget where I read it, but I felt that it fit. If this is your quote and you don't want me to use it, just let me know.

Final Author's Notes:

There's really a sense of accomplishment when you finish something that you've had in your mind for about two years. It's been a long journey for me (and all of you, as well), but it's been good. There is a sadness, though, that comes along with it. It took me more than half an hour to bring myself to write the final scene.

So now you know everything. A lot of you were actually right with your first guess about the Homunculi, you just didn't realize that I had left them out of the last chapter for dramatic purposes. I hope you all enjoyed the fighting sequences; I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm not an action writer. Actually, I had always planned Mustang having a fight with Lust out in the hallway, but it never made it into the story because I couldn't find a place to put it. I had always planned for Scar, though, so I just had to be content with Mustang only getting one fight.

Alphonse finally made it into the story! It's what I've been teasing you with since the very beginning, and now you know what I meant when I said that he would and yet would not return. Yes, he is dead. He is definitely not coming back. But Edward had his reconciliation with him, so that okay.

Yeesh, I hope you all didn't think that scene was too cheesy. I though I did all right with it.

So Edward got his happy ending. I hope you've all enjoyed my story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I'm very happy with this final chapter, but I hope at least one of you readers likes it as well.

Now that you've read the entire story, please review and let me know what you thought. If you have any questions, I will be happy to send you a personal reply. And remember that I accept flames, as well, so feel free to yell at me if you hated it. If you've never taken the time to review before, please just give me a few quick words so that I know if you liked it or not.

No, I am not planning on writing a sequel. In that six months where there were no updates, I began to lose interest in FMA, and I just can't bring myself to write it anymore. Maybe some day I'll write a new story in this category, but no time soon. And just so there's no doubt in your minds that there will by **no sequel**, let me tell you that I couldn't even begin to imagine what I would write.

To wrap this all up, just let me say thank you to all of my loyal readers, and I hope you liked this final installment of _Rehabilitation_.

-Sugarpony

8.10.07.


End file.
